


10 | With you

by ELC01



Series: It’s you [10]
Category: Harry Styles (Fandom), Harry Styles - Fandom, One Direction (Band)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-13
Updated: 2020-09-27
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:08:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 25,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26433151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ELC01/pseuds/ELC01
Summary: With such a magnetic attraction, they could afford to wait for their perfect moment.So, when the time is right, Harry and Eloise finally get to embark on something magical together.Navigating their blossoming relationship through tours and a burgeoning new career, the hiatus and new directions, they experience all manner of highs and lows.They'll face revelations and illnesses, break ups and make ups, weddings and anniversaries. But whose?>Tenth in a series of interconnected select moments, exploring the developing relationship between Harry and Eloise.This tenth instalment takes place between January - July 2018, picking up right after all the events of the preceding chapters:'1 | Back to you (Prologue)'‘2 | You, again’‘3 | You & I’‘4 | You with me’'5 | You without me''6 | Back to you'‘7 | Adore you’‘8 | Only you’‘9 | All yours’.
Relationships: Harry Styles/Original Female Character
Series: It’s you [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1528811
Comments: 6
Kudos: 15





	1. Part A

**Author's Note:**

> This is intended as an exercise in character development and descriptive writing. Any mistakes are my own.
> 
> Harry features heavily - because he's incredibly charismatic and so talented - but I feel a little out of my comfort zone writing RFC, so will be mindful to be as respectful as possible.
> 
> Disclaimer: I have no links to Harry or any of his associates. Rather, I am just borrowing him and them as familiar points of reference for not-for-profit artistic license.

6th January 2018

Christmas and the New Year passed in a blur.

Eloise and Harry spent their first Christmas Day together, with his family, up in Holmes Chapel, before heading back down to London. They'd ended up spending a quiet New Year's Eve with her family, mostly just cooing over baby Ruby.

Before they knew it, Harry was dropping Eloise at Heathrow.

She flew back to LA on Tuesday, for a couple of days of promotion and her final fittings.

Her embellished Temperley midi dress hadn't quite been ready, so Harry was due to play mule for her and bring it with him instead.

Having to stay on in London for a few meetings, he was always due to be cutting it a little fine to get back in time for tonight's BAFTA LA Tea Party.

But when his flight early yesterday evening was delayed on the runway and then eventually cancelled due to a technical fault, he knew he'd been cutting it really fine.

There was a problem with the baggage system and he'd left the airport almost empty handed, but had been assured that his misplaced suitcases would be waiting for him when he checked in again the next morning.

In fact, they hadn't been waiting; but he'd been assured all was in hand and they would soon be being loaded directly into the plane's hold. No problem.

>

Evidently, British Airways are full of shit.

After pandemonium in the baggage hall at LAX, he receives assurances, again, that his suitcases will arrive later today and be delivered to his house in the Hills that night.

He knows he's screwed.

After finding his driver, he takes a deep breath and chuckles nervously as Harry Lambert pats him on the knee and lets out a low whistle.

"...Oh, ha ha, very funny!", Eloise laughs flatly after Harry's sheepish admission.

Rubbing his neck, he clears his throat nervously. "I'm really sorry, but I'm not messing around, babe", he winces.

"Come on, H, please...", she tails off, hesitantly.

Hearing him swallow thickly, the penny drops.

"Fuck! Shit, but I don't think I have anything else fancy enough here...?", he can hear her jogging up the stairs already. "Oh, God, I have nothing to wear and need to be on the carpet in, fuck, four and a half hours-".

"Baby, please, don't panic", feeling guilty, he tries to reassure her. "It's not black tie. We'll sort something, okay?".

"And hey, I don't have mine either", he tries to reassure her.

"You have a wardrobe full of suits!", she scoffs.

Okay, fair point. Hearing her rummaging hurriedly through clothes hangers, he's pretty sure he's already lost her to wardrobe panic. "We'll be there soon, alright? Love you".

"Mmm-hmm... So much. See you soon". Huh? Maybe she can multitask.

>

The traffic's fairly light for early afternoon on a Saturday, and they make good time.

Pulling up the drive, they see Rosie, struggling to juggle a wriggling Jack and her huge baby bag in one arm, whilst rummaging in the boot of her car.

Harry jumps out to help, jogging over to greet her and take Jack and the bag so she can sort through the heap of loose clothing.

He opens the door and finds Eloise, on the phone whilst sitting at the dining room table having her hair curled.

As he says "Hi" to the stylist, he tightens his hold on Jack and bends to peck a kiss to her lips. He quickly deduces she's speaking to Charles, her agent.

"...Yeah, so unless you want me rocking the latest in towel chic, please can you tell them I need a later arrival time?". He takes her laugh as a sign that she's worked through the initial panic.

She quickly hangs up and reaches out for him.

"Hi", he grins, bending to kiss her again, a little longer this time.

"Hmm, hi!", she grins.

"I'm sorry", he winces.

"Not your fault", she shrugs with a warm smile, already reaching again with her fingers outstretched. "Hi Jack!", she coos as she settles him on her lap.

The baby cuddles calm her down even more, and by the time the last of her hair is twirled into ringlets and pinned up into coils to set, she heads into the living room and grins, seeing three of her favourite people, invested in solving her not so little problem.

Passing Jack back to Harry and giving him a proper hug and a kiss in the process, she then embraces Harry Lambert and Rosie too, who proceeds to talk her through all the options. Dresses, skirts and blouses galore; she must have raided her huge wardrobe.

"Ro, I love you, and thank you so much for dropping whatever you were doing to rush over. These are all so gorgeous, but I'm at least a size bigger than you and stuff always needs altering on me...". She's so grateful, but not at all hopeful.

"Oh, hush you!", Rosie hip checks her. "Humour me... Come one, what have you got to lose?".

>

Her false sense of calm, apparently.

Shrugging, she pulls down her shorts and tank top, standing unabashed in her black crop top bra and knickers.

It wasn't false modesty. Even after Jack, there's no mistaking Rosie is a supermodel. Eloise is as tall, and, by all accounts, slim herself; but she has a shorter torso, wider hips, and her boobs are at least a cup and band size bigger.

Even the more forgiving fabrics don't quite work.

There's an 'if all else fails, then maybe' Prabal Gurung fuchsia ruffled silk blouse that could work. It's a little tight across her chest but the ruffles make it passable, if not quite comfortable. She figures she could pair it with her cropped black leather trousers, but just knows it's not quite dressy enough. Shit.

Stripped back down to her underwear again, Harry passes Jack to Rosie and pulls Eloise into his arms, sensing she's about to lose her cool.

From his perch steaming the black Gucci suit and cream silk shirt they hastily selected from upstairs, Harry Lambert chuckles, "Alright, alright...". Standing up, he steps forward and reaches for Eloise's hand to tug her from Harry's embrace. "How about a little less conversation and a little more action, hmm? Come on, love, I've always wanted to get my hands on you...".

As Harry and Rosie look at him skeptically, he tugs Eloise's hand again and drags her towards the stairs. When he calls out "Just trust me, yeah, H?", over his shoulder, Eloise peeks over hers and shrugs, just as confused but running out of options.

>

Having welcomed his mum and sister, just arrived after their flight from Manchester, Harry leaves them with Rosie, cooing over Jack, and heads upstairs to shower.

After hanging up his freshly steamed suit and shirt on the frame of the oversized mirror in the corner of the bedroom, he tip toes towards the walk-in wardrobe and sneaks a peek.

Grinning at what he sees, he props a shoulder against the doorframe and watches keenly on.

Eloise stands facing the full-length mirror, dressed in nothing but a much fancier lingerie set and an embellished pair of stilettos.

Unsure whether he's seen either before, he can't help it if he has to drop a hand to his crotch for a little rearranging of the goods. Jesus Christ.

Eventually managing to tear his eyes off her, somehow, he spots Harry Lambert's reflection in the mirror gesturing to three of his suit jackets hanging off the wardrobe doors. Hmm?

First selecting the black Gucci with the velvet-trimmed lapel that he wore at the Victoria's Secret show, he helps her into it before stepping close behind, folding and holding the fabric to tighten it over her waist.

She tugs at the hem and frowns, scrunching her nose, unconvinced.

Next up they try the candy pink Edward Sexton suit jacket he wore on Good Morning America last Spring, and she promptly throws her head back, laughing. This one's a little bit longer, but with her pale blonde hair, the pink does look a bit Barbie.

"I'm Elle Woods and this is Bruiser Woods. We're both Gemini vegetarians", she sasses, giving it her best Reese.

Harry snorts a laugh, giving himself away. "Wouldn't recommend 'bending and snapping' in that, baby!", he quips, making her laugh again. He knows she could keep up the Legally Blonde quotes indefinitely.

"Okay, fair enough!", a giggling Harry Lambert concedes, "This double pocket would be a nightmare with darting a new line, anyway..." he mumbles to himself.

"Right, fingers crossed for number three then!", he chuckles optimistically, helping her shrug out of the pink and swapping it for the sharp-shouldered pale mint Givenchy suit jacket Harry wore at his Tokyo show and also in Shanghai for Victoria's Secret.

The blue hue makes her eyes and hair pop, and complements the subtle tan she'd picked up in the LA sunshine over the last few days. It hits sinfully high on her thighs, but makes her legs look endless in those heels.

Cocking her head, she tugs at the hem and pulls the cut of the neckline higher to obscure her bra.

"Ooh, this can work!", Harry Lambert grins, reaching for his box of pins. He secures a few between his teeth and gets to work, skilfully pinching and folding and pinning fabric down her back as he tugs and adjusts the front with his other hand.

Spinning her around, he hems the cuffs as she looks up at her Harry, still loitering in the doorway. "What do you think?", she bites her lip.

"Well, I'm not at all surprised it looks better on you than me!". His grin wavers as Harry Lambert starts rummaging around in her cleavage. He reaches down to draw a line inside with a white chalk pencil, marking where he'll need to drop some stitches to the neckline to avoid her flashing too much.

Eloise pulls a funny face at him as Harry Lambert manhandles her this way and that, all business. "It's dangerously short, though...", she frowns, looking over her shoulder at the back hemline in the mirror.

Harry Lambert spins her back to the mirror and stands back, looking at her appraisingly. The loose darts make all the difference, nipping it in at her waist and somehow giving the illusion of an extra inch or so on the front hem. "Good thing you've got the best pair of pins I've ever seen then! This looks great, right? Everyone happy?".

"You are a clever sausage... I'm not sure I've got much choice, do I?", Eloise giggles nervously. Shit, it's really, really short. And probably recognisable as Harry's, to anyone in the know.

"What's the latest you need to leave? I need all the time I can get to run these stitches".

"About 5.30pm? 5.40pm latest? Just in case there's traffic getting down to Beverly Hills".

"Oof, and it's just gone three! Okay, let me at it, I'll do my best".

"Thank you, Harry", she drops a grateful kiss to his cheek after he helps ease her out of it, mindful of the pins.

She toes off her heels and struts towards the ensuite bathroom. "And thank you, Harry", she repeats with a grin, "For lending me your Givenchy", she bats her eyelashes. Her kiss falls on lips this time.

After pottering around the bathroom as he showers, she shrugs on her robe and they head back downstairs together, to hang out with their guests as the stylists sort his hair and her make-up.

>

"Oh, I'm a bloody genius! Would you look at that!", Harry Lambert crows a couple of hours later. He worked wonders, but didn't quite manage to hem the cuffs, so jumps up as she hurries down the stairs, fussing over the fit and adjusting the rolled sleeves to hit at the crook of her elbows.

"You looks fantastic, Eloise!", Anne coos.

"What were you worried about?", Gemma scoffs, "You look way better than him in it!".

"Oh, so unoriginal! I already said that...", Harry tuts.

As Eloise goes to bend to place her stilettos on the floor, she straightens quickly back up, cringing as she tugs gently on the hem of her newly fashioned tux dress.

"Oh, God, you're going to keep me on my toes tonight, aren't you?", Harry sasses, taking the heels and squatting in front of her.

Dropping one hand to her calf and the other to her ankle, he can't help but grin up at her, "Look at that, the shoe fits", he smirks with a wink, quickly attending to her other foot.

She can't help but roll her eyes and drape her arms around his neck as he stands back up. "Alright, rein it in, Prince Charming!", she drops a kiss to his lips.

Harry Lambert snorts a laugh, "Okay, so you look great, but you cannot bend over or lift your arms up, at all!", he levels her with a stern look.

She clamps them back down again. "Oh, God, this has got disaster written all over it, doesn't it? Do not let me drink!", she waggles a finger at Harry.

After posing for a few photos, separately and together, Harry offers her an arm down the front steps, then gentlemanly opens her car door.

>

After the unexpected stresses of the day, they make the most of their first car journey together for a work event, even if just for the quick drive to Beverly Hills.

Whilst catching up on their few days apart, he tries stealing kisses as she swats his wandering fingers from her hemline.

Arriving at the Four Seasons hotel, they're greeted by Charles and Jeff and, after tousling her curls and checking her lipstick, they separate before arriving at the red carpeted patio near the steps down to the garden, which is already swarming with guests.

As Harry hangs back to let Eloise go first, he regales their wardrobe woes to Jeff, eyeing her appreciatively as she poses for the bank of photographers and is then ushered to the few media outlets set up to film interviews.

When a publicist for the event hurries him along sooner than he'd like, he ends up in front of the bank of photographers whilst she's still being interviewed. Buzz and speculative chatter soon abounds.

"Did you come together, Harry?", "Are you together?", "When are you going to make it official?", the photographers holler.

Harry just smiles and keeps quiet, but surreptitiously wipes a bead of sweat from his forehead, knowing he has to face an interviewer soon enough.

Eloise hears them too, but tries to keep her interviewer distracted. She couldn't help but laugh at the inevitable "Who are you wearing?" question.

"Well, not the Temperley dress I'd been planning on, as it happens! I was victim to a bit of a lost luggage disaster, so we had to improvise at the last minute. It's Givenchy, but only thanks to a clever stylist and a generous guy with pretty impeccable taste", she grins, otherwise tight-lipped.

After waxing lyrical about the honour of being nominated, and admitting to still feeling pretty naive to the ins and outs of how the industry works to eschew questions on the odds for her category, she thinks she might just manage to escape unscathed. However, the last interviewer, spotting Harry in front of the photographers, can't help but try his luck.

Harry gets a similar ribbing, from the other end of the carpet.

"So are you the mystery benefactor of that incredible Givenchy tux, Harry?", she hazards a guess, and can't help but laugh when he unconsciously cranes his head towards Eloise down the carpet. He knows she knows, but he won't go there.

Instead, he deploys all his charm to skirt the intrusive questions, but does take the opportunity to bestow genuine praise and support for his best friend. What? She is. And then some.

Steeling himself, he moves on to the next interviewer. One down, two to go.

The flash of leg as she rounds the end of the carpet is all the incentive he needs.

>

Knowing they'll both be itching to get back to each other, so intent on making their most of their focus while it lasts, Charles and Jeff drag their respective charges from pillar to post, introducing them to network and studio executives, producers and casting agents.

At their first public event together, but not together-together, Eloise and Harry smile coyly whenever they catch each other's eyes. They're finding it harder than they imagined to keep themselves in check; especially him, with a peak of her cleavage and those legs very much on display.

As the photographers and press pack up to leave and some of the industry types start heading off, to other events, no doubt, everyone left mingling on the lawn starts relaxing a bit.

After shrugging off unexpectedly aggressive flirty advances from Armie Hammer and James Franco, who'd cornered her by the dovecote, Eloise makes a beeline for Harry as soon as she spots him by the bar.

Picking her way carefully over the lawn in her heels, a hand to her elbow stops her in her tracks. It's only bloody Gary Oldman, chatting to Gillian Anderson, telling her he watched Daisy Jones & The Six on the plane and loved it so much he started watching it again straight away. What is this life?

Stumbling to Harry with a beaming, disbelieving smile, she's taken aback again when he introduces her to Emilia Clarke and Richard Madden. Oh, this'll be good; she can't help but grin. Neither of them could get into Game of Thrones, so she's interested to see if he'll try and bluff it.

But he's soon saved when they're distracted as arms sling around their shoulders and jostle them playfully. It's an exuberant Jack Lowden, thrilled to be reunited with Harry for the first time since the Dunkirk premieres. He's swiftly followed by Tom and Fionn.

"Hey, you're together!", Tom cheers.

"Not together-together, so cool it", Harry elbows him in warning.

There are a few selfies and photos captured as they all mingle, but they try to keep things discrete.

>

Later, Eloise chats with Florence Pugh and Gemma Chan, alongside Douglas Booth and Ben Hardy.

Dougie and Ben are outrageous flirts and she can feel Harry's eyes burning into the back of her head from where he's chatting nearby with Timothée Chalamet and Nick Jonas, randomly.

They're soon joined by Sam Claflin, who greets Eloise with a big bear hug and promptly spins her around. Feeling disorientated and tugging desperately at her hemline, she does a double-take when she spots James Norton is following him across the lawn.

Fucking hell. She's not seen him since their spiky parting at the Groucho Club in London back in January, once they'd finished the press for War and Peace.

But two saviours come quickly to her rescue.

She smells Harry's Tom Ford cologne just before she feels the signature run of fingertips down the inside of her forearm before he grasps her hand reassuringly in his.

Meanwhile, she's engulfed in a gangly hug as Phoebe launches herself at her, pushing her into Harry, who drops a bracing hand to her hip as he eyeballs James and an oblivious Sam.

"Big day tomorrow, then! What time are you taking Cinderella here home?", Phoebe jokes with Harry.

It's all the excuse they need.

>

Having said their goodbyes, they find Jeff and Charles and chat through the plans for the morning again before heading through the lobby to find their car out front.

Harry pulls her across the seat and tucks her under his arm, nuzzling his head into the crook of her neck. "How am I going to cope tomorrow?", he groans. "God, that was even harder than I thought, to keep my hands off you... And you know what seeing you in my clothes does to me", he drawls, peppering kisses up her neck and jaw as he drags his hand dangerously high up her thigh.

Hearing her shaky sigh, he lifts his head to smirk before his eyes soften and he looks at her intently, raking a thumb over her jaw. "I'm sorry again for the stress today, baby... I feel terrible; you literally gave me one job!".

"That was all BA's fault, not yours", she laughs. "And thank you again for letting me borrow this... I can't even remember if I said that earlier? Sorry. Oh, and Harry said the darting stitches he put in are all reversible, so don't worry", she pats his stomach, placatingly.

He pulls her in for a proper kiss until his stomach promptly rumbles and breaks them apart, and they ask the driver to make a stop on the way home.

>

Stepping through the front door just after 8.30pm, they chuckle to see that his suitcases have finally arrived, along with a grovelling handwritten note from someone at BA's Platinum Club Member Services team.

Grabbing plates and cutlery, they join Anne and Gemma on the sofa and dig in to poké bowls and reality TV, wildly overdressed.

With jet lag soon hitting the three of them pretty hard, Eloise rouses them and rounds everyone up to bed. They've got a big day ahead.

>

Settling into bed, Eloise checks her messages, relieved to hear the glam and styling teams have re-conformed the plans for the morning. Phew.

As a sleepy Harry snuggles against her shoulder, she thumbs to Instagram to accept a few requests from new acquaintances from earlier.

She sees more than she bargained for.

Evidently they were side by side in one of the group photos taken earlier. A crop of the two of them from that - and also one from the red carpet, taken at an angle that makes it appear they were standing closer than they were - has everyone commenting.

Social media has deemed it 'incontrovertible proof' of their relationship, apparently - that Harry was willing to let pins be taken to one of his beloved suits.

Others labelled it a high-fashion take on stealing your boyfriend's hoodie. She can't really argue with that one.

And she can't help but laugh out loud at the comments linking the suit jacket she wore tonight to his Victoria's Secret ex- whatevers - that he may have been surrounded by rumoured exes at the Shanghai fashion show, but she's the one having the last laugh, literally wearing the clothes from that night off his back.

Peering sleepily over her shoulder, he tugs at the oversized t-shirt she's wearing and sniggers. "Imagine what they'd have to say about you wearing my clothes in my bed then?".

Rolling lazily on top of her, he tries tugging it up, but her distracted swatting at his hands only gets weaker as his kisses get more intense.


	2. Part B

7th January 2018

"Baby, no...", Eloise grumbles, rolling over and burrowing into Harry's chest as he tries to rouse her from her sleep.

"Mmm hmm, wakey wakey!", he sing songs, raking his hands through her hair; the curls from last night now wildly dishevelled.

Feeling the warmth of his chest, hearing the solid thump of his heart right below her cheek, and not even needing to see the beaming dimpled smile on his face, she knows resistance is futile.

Arching her back in a deep stretch, she nuzzles into his neck and mumbles, "If you're robbing me of precious sleep because you're horny again-". His unnecessarily loud bark of laughter cuts her off.

"Mum made us some coffees, bright and early! Isn't that sweet?", he says pointedly, chuckling again when the penny drops and she cranes her neck back, bright blue eyes now opened wide.

Grinning sheepishly, she peers over her shoulder to see his mum in the partially open doorway, proffering two steaming mugs. "Sorry to intrude...", Anne blushes slightly.

"No need; and certainly not with caffeine! Thank you", she flips over and untangles herself from Harry. Well, tries to. She yelps in surprise when he pulls her back, propped up against his chest.

"I'll just leave them here... Bit hot". Anne places the mugs carefully on the nightstand, then hesitates for a beat before perching on the mattress on Eloise's side of the bed. "Actually, I, umm... Just want a minute alone with you both while I still can, before all the madness", she grins softly.

>

After Anne's little pep talk, bursting with love and pride, leaves them both grinning and blushing, Harry reaches over to tug at her arm to pull her closer. Taken by surprise, she lands ungainly between them, buried face first into Eloise's pillow. In a tangle of hair and arms, they share a giggling, jubilant group hug.

Pulling back to right herself, Anne sits back up and takes stock, looking between the two of them. She lifts a hand to Harry and ruffles a hand through his messy bed hair, as she's done a thousand times before. "Oh, how lucky am I?", she grins, patting his cheek. "How handsome is my date for tonight, hey? I'm sorry for taking him off you, darling", she casts her eyes to Eloise.

"I don't know...", he swats her hand away, "Hers is pretty special too!".

"Have you not thought any more about just going public?", Anne asks, looking between them. "It's the biggest night of your careers so far; I just wish you could support each other without having to hold yourselves back".

"I know Mum, we know... But there's already a lot on today, we don't need to add that to the list", he rolls his eyes playfully.

"Oh, what's all this then? Something else I wasn't invited to?", Gemma interrupts, sassily joking from the door before taking a run up and leaping on to the bed too. "You better not be starkers?", she raises an eyebrow at Harry, as he tries to fend her off with one arm.

"Better not risk it then, hmm?", he sasses back. "Alright, alright, I love you, but please piss off, both of you... We'll be down in a few minutes".

>

As they skip out the bedroom, Eloise's phone pings again on her nightstand, but he wraps his arm tighter around her waist to stop her reaching for it. "Today's going to be insane... Just give me another few minutes, just us, please?".

How could she refuse him that? Melting into his hold, she then twists around to peck slow, soft kisses up his neck and jaw.

"I'm so fucking proud of you, baby", he sighs. "I know you won't love all the attention later, but you so deserve it... What mum said- If it all gets a bit overwhelming, you know I'll do anything I can to help. Anything; please just ask. Promise me?".

Pulling back, she props herself up on her elbow and gazes at him with a beaming smile, taking in his earnest expression and the intense look in his eyes; a crystalline pale green this morning.

"I promise", she nods, reverently. "Fuck, how did I ever get so lucky? I'm so proud of you, Harry. You know that, don't you? I know you feel a touch of imposter syndrome with all this, and especially dipping back into it all now, when your music's doing so well... But you absolutely deserve all this too, you know? There's a reason Christopher wanted you four tonight. You're the heart and soul of that film, despite all the veteran names attached to it".

Eyes sparkling, he reaches forward to kiss her deeply, letting his momentum push her back so he can roll on top.

Her phone promptly buzzes again, and he groans in dismay, making her laugh. "Now that we really don't have time for! But mark my words, H-", she buries her head back into her pillow to be be able to look him in the eye. "Whatever happens later, the only place I care about ending up is right here, in your arms, making good on this promise", she rolls her hips playfully against his. "I love you, so much".

"So fucking much", he echoes, surging in for one final kiss.

Sneaking a hand under her (his) hiked up t-shirt, he runs his thumb over her tattoo and buries his face in her neck, singing lowly in her ear. "She's like a rainbow...".

When she peals into giggles, he pulls back and cranes his neck up to belt out the rest of the chorus. "Coming, colours in the air / Oh, everywhere / She comes in colours".

"Mmm, I'll hold you to that later", she smirks, pinching his bum. "Now, come on, up, up! Busy day, baby".

>

Now nearing 10am, there's a queue of bemused couriers and high end cars idling outside the gate.

Ben and Jeff happen to jump out of theirs at the same time, heading over to enter the code.

"Think that's them?", Jeff calls out with a grin and a roll of his eyes.

"Almost certainly!", Ben laughs, shaking his head as he jogs back to his Range Rover.

After the cars all pull in and puzzle to park, there's another, more unruly queue; up the steps to the front door, this time.

Ben, Mer and baby Ruby, with Crispin and Elin. Jeff. Her agent, Charles. Adele and Rosie, with Angelo and little Jack. Even Tom Glynne-Carney, Harry's blonde-again co-star from Dunkirk.

Their arms are laden with bouquets, bottles, garment bags, and holdalls. Not to mention the babies, and all their paraphernalia.

Adele and Rosie coo excitedly over Ruby, who makes the just six month old Jack look huge in comparison.

Ben slips through the crowd to unlock the front door.

When it opens, they're taken aback at the wall of sound, as Fleetwood Mac blares through the sound system.

Heading through the kitchen to the open balcony doors, they look down a see a dance party.

Anne, Gemma, Harry and Eloise skip around the pool deck in just swimwear and wafting kaftans, dancing and air drumming and singing at the top of their lungs. Fleetwood Mac's Go Your Own Way, naturally.

At the sound of Crispin's booming laugh, they all jump and look up sheepishly at their surprise audience before cracking up themselves.

Gemma turns down the volume for a second and shouts up, "Queen Stevie will be here in a few hours, so we're just getting it out of our system now! And El needs to burn off some energy before she's stuck getting ready all day... Get down here!". She cranks it back up, but not as loud as before, given all the little ears now in their midst.

"Crazy Brits! I've never felt so outnumbered", Jeff laughs, shaking his head as he snaps some photos and videos.

After a multitude of hugs and kisses, they all chat and mingle excitedly, but with keen eyes on Angelo and the unfenced pool.

Even Elin seems to relax, throwing her head back laughing as she chats with Gemma. Evidently she must have that charming Styles Midas touch too.

After Don't Stop, Say You Love Me, Rhiannon and Gypsy, they fittingly play Gold Dust Woman last.

Harry pulls Eloise into his arms and dances around, singing along, as her gaze flits between him and their nearest and dearest.

She's indescribably happy, and has that slightly disconcerting feeling of knowing, even right in the moment, that it's a memory she'll treasure forever.

It's like her brain goes into hyperdrive, cataloguing everything. The feel of the goosebumps spreading over her skin at the sound of his low and rasping voice in her ear. The tickle of his fingers tangling in the ties of her white triangle bikini at the middle of her back. The look on her Dad's face as he cuddles Ruby close, whispering and pointing at them. Anne's laughter as Ben spins her in a dance. Adele, Rosie and Mer, with their heads together, cooing over babies.

Since the shock of learning about the nominations, it's been a whirlwind four weeks; passing in a flurry of meetings and appointments and fittings, with flights and Christmas and New Year's thrown in too.

She hadn't anticipated an impromptu silly dance party, but it's exactly what she needed to ground her back down to earth again.

Whatever might happen, these people, right here, are all that matter. It really is that simple.

>

When a bemused Mitch, who'd stopped by with Tom, steps on to the balcony, leading Harry Lambert and a small army of glam crew and assistants laden with their bags of tricks, there's at least a bigger group of them smiling up from the pool deck.

"Eloise, don't you dare get in that pool! If you give me green hair to work with, today of all days, I will quit", Sasha, her highly strung hairstylist warns with a jabbing finger before flouncing back inside.

Jeff heads upstairs, to set them up in the spacious master bedroom and guest bathrooms.

The rest of them slowly follow, making their way back up to continue chilling and hanging out as they set out the brunch they'd been preparing before a little Stevie inspired them to dance it out with reckless abandon.

Champagne corks pop, toasts are made, and pep talks are given.

With a grimace, Rosie leans over the corner of the marble island and plucks the slice of freshly buttered sourdough toast from Eloise's hand. "I'm sorry, El, hate me now, but thank me later... Protein and black coffee only, or you'll feel bloated later, trust me", she hastily explains.

Eloise pouts in acquiescence, but snatches it back, just to smell it.

>

As some guests leave, the gate keeps on buzzing.

Adele and Rosie, plus their little charges, have to head home to get ready for the afterparties. Tom Glynne-Carney leaves too, back to his hotel to suit up.

But plenty more gifts arrive. Bouquets from Reese, and one from Ollie and Lucas as well. Bottles of champagne from CAA and her agency too.

A courier van arrives with the nominee goodie bags. And, holy shit, it's obscene. They all laugh in bemusement as they dole out the winnings.

Eloise - still in just her little white bikini with a crazy wild mane of last night's curls - runs around the house, trying to delay getting ready. "It's only 11am, this is preposterous!", she wails dramatically, as Harry corners her on the balcony off the living room.

Much to everyone else's amusement, he wins their stand off and promptly throws her over his shoulder to finally deliver her upstairs.

Heading back down, he joins them in the kitchen again to start making some fresh coffees. "And Best Actress goes to...", he chuckles, setting them all off.

>

All the women pop their heads in to the master bedroom occasionally, checking in as they rotate in and out of the assistant hairstylist's chair.

Eloise is stationed just inside the balcony doors in their airy bedroom, away from the rays of the unseasonably warm sun, but close enough to hear some of the joyful chatter floating up from the larger balcony below.

Getting bored, as her phone recharges after she'd drained it replying to hundreds of good luck messages, she grumbles when Harry casually swans in to shower and shave, just two hours before they need to leave.

She's been at it for hours already, and Sasha has only just finished her hair, now leaving the classic waves to set in meticulously placed clips and grips. And Izzy, her make-up artist, has only just laboriously finished up her base.

Eloise loves a bit of pampering and skincare and make-up as much as the next girl, but even she had lost count, and the will to live, after layer seven.

She dreads to think how many layers of eye shadow she might need to contend with, before it's all just blended together anyway.

Who knew a 'naturally dewy' look would be such a tall order?

>

An hour later, looking suave - groomed, but not yet dressed up - Harry returns, delivering Stevie upstairs, along with a chilled bottle of champagne and four glasses.

Draping herself insouciantly on the chaise longue like the true rockstar she is, she gives her a pep talk too.

Pootling between the bedroom and ensuite, Eloise knows Harry's listening in, and doesn't blame him for a second. After he gathers his rings from his bedside table, she wiggles her fingers at him, beckoning him closer.

In return, he trails his over her bare shoulders, and drops a kiss there - as he had done their first night together, getting ready in Malibu.

Their eyes meet in the mirror in front of her, then he leans over to give her a proper kiss before heading back downstairs.

"Oof, is it hot in here, or is it just me?", Stevie jests, fanning her face.

"Scorching!", Sasha giggles.

"Definitely at risk of melting off all my hard work", Izzy deadpans.

"So this is where the magic happens, huh?", Stevie asks, peering around the bedroom with a throaty chuckle.

"Alright, alright... God, stop!", Eloise hushes them before she starts blushing.

>

Almost another hour later, the glam team finally pack up and empty out of the master bedroom.

"No kissing!", Izzy warns sternly, causing eyes to roll skyward.

"I promise nothing!", Eloise shouts down the landing after her.

When he emerges, back in from the balcony after finishing up a call with his dad, Harry finds Eloise looking up at their garment bags, hanging side by side off the oversized mirror in the corner.

Turning to look at him, she sees him already eyeing her hotly. She's still just in a short towel, but glamorously bejewelled - with eye-wateringly expensive diamond drop earrings sparkling in her lobes - and perfectly made up, with her blonde hair styled in sleek Hollywood waves and pulled forward over one shoulder.

"Wow", he says simply; rendered almost speechless.

Clean shaven, he's looking perfectly coiffed and groomed and smelling delicious.

"Wow, back", she can't help but smirk. Seriously, how did she get so lucky?

They're interrupted as Harry Lambert wraps his knuckles on the door.

As he sets about helping Harry get dressed, she settles on the stool at the dressing table, more than happy to watch.

His custom Gucci dinner jacket appears ostensibly just like a classic high-end tux, which is surprising, for him. But, look a little closer, and the metallic thread piping and detail on the bow tie and cummerbund, and the embellished stars lining the inside of the jacket, make it more than a little special, and perfectly Harry. Complemented with a crisp white silk shirt and black velvet ankle boots, he looks nothing short of dashing.

Upon Harry Lambert's satisfied nod of approval, whilst Eloise practically drools, he smirks and tells her he better leave them to it.

"It's not a wedding dress!", she calls out after him, shaking her head at the other Harry, bemused.

"Maybe I want the surprise!", he shouts back from the top of the stairs.

>

Fifteen minutes later, and everyone is gathered in the foyer, finishing the last of the champagne and ready to go - either to the Golden Globes, or just to collapse in a heap after all the frantic prep.

Stevie's draped in dramatic swathes of gothic black lace, with her signature thigh high black suede platform boots.

Anne looks gorgeous in the custom Gucci dress Harry had commissioned as one of her 50th birthday surprises; all gorgeous lines in hammered black silk.

Elin wears an elegant velvet-trimmed black dress; meanwhile Mer's tugging at the bust of her sleek pleated black gown, trying to decide whether she needs to try and pump again before they leave.

Crispin, Ben, Jeff and Charles are all suited and booted, if just a little bit more conservatively than Harry.

Charles just finishes calling up the stairs again that they need to leave soon, when they hear her heels on the wooden floor and crane their heads up.

Looking down as she navigates the stairs carefully, Eloise grips the bannister tightly with one hand, whilst holding up the front of her long skirt in the other. Harry Lambert scrambles awkwardly behind her, lifting the rest of the fabric to keep it off the floor and out from under her feet.

She's poured into a delicate, black, embellished, long sleeved Elie Saab bodice, paired with a softly pleated and flowing black silk maxi skirt with a thigh high split. The jet beading and tiny sequins are strategically placed so there's a fair bit of skin peeking through the semi-sheer base layer.

You could almost hear a pin drop when she first appears, before the gasps and cooing starts. They all fawn and chatter excitedly - including Ollie and Lucas, over FaceTime.

Harry's rendered speechless, until he finally steps forward to offer her a hand as she reaches the last few steps and looks up to meet his eye. "You look sensational! So incredibly beautiful... You're a goddess".

Helping her down, he holds out their joined hands and spins her in a slow circle, and they all gasp again when it reveals the bodice is backless.

Wanting to shrink from the attention, when she reaches down to adjust the ankle strap of her simple Aquazurra heeled sandals, Harry Lambert practically throws himself at her feet. "No, don't bend down... We need your tits to stay right where they are!".

Well, that tips her over into embarrassment. She can't help but nudge at the boned side of the backless bra thankfully built into the bodice.

Braving a look back up, she blanches under her make-up, swallowing thickly as they all gape and stare and beam at her.

"Okay, now I think I'm going to throw up", she says in a quiet, fretful tone. "This isn't just a party... What was I thinking?", she worries, shaking her hands out.

Her dad is the first to step in, and pulls her into a tight but careful hug, whispering in her ear to calm her down.

As Izzy and Sasha head back over for their final checks, there's a panic when Harry Lambert can't find the package Reese had biked over earlier.

It's enough to distract Eloise from how she's feeling; not least when she finds the card that had been attached to it; 'I wore this when I won my first Golden Globe... Just a loaner, for luck!'.

But, wow. When Anne finally finds it, tucked away on the little section of marble counter alongside the hob, they all gasp again when they see the size of the diamond ring.

Between that and the stunning diamonds in her ears, Eloise feels literally weighed down with the pressure not to lose the precious borrowed gems.

When Elin comments that the dress is pretty, but navy or grey would have been less severe on her colouring, she can only shake her head in dismay. "Oh, God, Mum! I didn't exactly have a choice...", she points to the #timesup pin freshly affixed to her bodice as Crispin steps in to explain.

Seeing Eloise look down and frown at her billowing black skirt, Harry steps closer. "Stop it, stop that right now!", he points her chin back up and levels her sternly before continuing, "You are 'talented, brilliant, incredible, amazing, show stopping, spectacular'". His silly, Gaga-esque delivery is successfully amusing enough to distract her train of thought.

>

Harry Lambert soon lends more distraction, trying to orchestrate photos.

He and the glam crew snap them individually for their social media. Then they hand off cameras and phones, capturing Harry and Eloise alone and together, then rotating in agents then parents and family, with Gemma trying to hide behind Harry in her casual gear.

Then, after all the hype and all the prep, they're finally ready, and they all gather back in the foyer.

When no one makes a move to actually head out the door, Harry clears his throat and asks if they can have a moment alone, successfully spurring everyone into action.

Mer checks the baby bag for the tenth time as Ben hands Ruby to Gemma, on babysitting duty. She calls the weary glam team to follow her into the kitchen, telling them they all deserve more champagne.

Then it's just them, finally.

Harry steps closer and takes her hands, dimples popping as he beams, casting his eyes over her again.

"There are going to be cameras everywhere. It's going to be so hard keeping my hands off you tonight...", he groans dramatically then lifts a hand to cup her neck as he gets more serious. "How did I get so lucky? You are so stunningly beautiful, Eloise - inside and out - and, whatever happens, I'm so, so proud of you".

She shakes her head on instinct. "I'm the lucky one!", she insists, then tries to lighting the intense mood. "Come on, please don't make me cry... Izzy will come for you and I happen to be quite fond of all your bits!", she smirks.

Shaking his head back at her, he steps closer still. Pressing a light kiss low on her cheek near her ear, he whispers "Can I kiss you? I need to kiss you", then dots featherlight kisses towards her lips, awaiting her consent.

Recalling the first time he said that to her, so long ago now, her resolve soon crumbles. "Try not to smudge it", she warns in a whisper, "Well, not too badly!".

It's cautious, and lighter than usual, but it's needed.

She pulls back and goofily talks through her still puckered lips. "What's the damage?".

Grimacing comically, he tugs the perfect white silk pocket square out of his jacket pocket.

But, lifting her hand suddenly to the nape of his neck, she surprises him, "Fuck it, I'll fix it in the car". She pulls him in for a proper kiss.

As he tugs her flush against his chest, his free hand wraps around to caress her bare lower back.

After a beat, she pulls back, and, panting, rests her forehead against his, eyes almost level in her heels.

They both grin; it proves grounding, and exactly what they both needed.

Seeing a smudge of dusky pink on his lower lip, she tugs the pocket square from his hand to swipe it off, before folding it neatly and pressing a smudgy dusky pink lipsticked kiss to the white silk before carefully tucking it back into his chest pocket, right above his pounding heart.

Grinning at her touching gesture, he looks back up into her dramatic eyes. "I realised what today is... Do you know?".

"Quite a big party?".

"It's about us...", he prompts.

Hearing a honk from outside, he rolls his eyes. "Okay, okay... Well, it's been three years today since our first kiss", he grins proudly.

"Well, that's very cute...", she pecks him again, "But you're wrong".

"I'm not! Yoga night; it was the day after I finalised on the New York condo".

It's her turn to roll her eyes. "God, you really don't remember that New Year's Eve party, do you?", she tuts. "I'll give you today as the third anniversary of you feeling me up! How about that? Maybe we can find a sneaky corner later for us to celebrate, hmm?".

He barks a laugh and pulls her in for a final quick kiss. "Fuck, I love you".

Ben, Mer, Crispin, Elin, Anne, Jeff, Stevie and Charles all look on from inside or alongside the idling cars, as Harry and Eloise descend the front steps, arm in arm, laughing gleefully.

Gemma, cradling Ruby, with the glam crew behind them, watches and waves from the front door.

When Harry opens the back door of the Mercedes saloon, he gives her a final good luck kiss - ignoring Izzy's grumbling, which is soon hushed by everyone else anyway - and helps her into the car before jogging over to the one waiting for him on the other side of the drive.


	3. Part C

7th January 2018 (continued)

Even having taken her phone back off Charles in the car to call Harry for a quiet couple of verses of She's a Rainbow, Eloise still feels an intense flash of nerves as they pull up to the Beverly Hilton hotel and she first catches sight of the scale of the event.

The long red carpet stretches as far as she can see. After a holding pen swarming with producers and event staff, trying to pace out the arrivals, she'll need to pass the huge bank of rabid photographers, then run the long gamut of crews and journalists, broadcasting live interviews.

Despite Stevie and Charles' best efforts, she feels physically sick as she steps out of the car and hears the cacophony of the cheering crowd, packed into a long narrow strip running the length of the red carpet.

After a few deep breaths, Eloise shakes out the soft pleats of her silk skirt and tightens her hold on Stevie's hand. When Charles finishes chatting with the producer, her turns to her with a flourish. "Okay, it's show time, doll! Relax, and remember, if you're not feeling it, then just bloody act it!". Stevie's chuckle prompts hers too. Why didn't she think of that?

As they near the front of the queue for the photographers, Eloise can't help but turn around when the crowd cheers loudly again.

Her gaze falls on Harry immediately; straightening up as he buttons his jacket after opening Anne's door. Knowing he's nearby only bolsters her confidence that little bit more, and soon she's ushered in front of the pack of photographers with a genuine, beaming smile.

>

Near enough each other on the red carpet, flanked by Jeff and Anne, and Charles and Stevie, respectively, Harry and Eloise have to deflect a fair few questions about each other.

"I haven't actually seen him on the carpet yet, actually". Eloise is quickly caught in a fib when she promptly peers back down the carpet, only to immediately catch his eye. Oops.

Confident she's the better actor, he doesn't even bother trying, knowing his uncontainable smile each time he catches sight of her would just give the game away anyway. "Yeah, she looks stunning", he looks longingly up the line, "I'm just so, so proud of her".

They continue trading coy glances up and down the carpet.

>

With the show due to start promptly, Eloise, trying to hang back just inside the door to wait for Harry, is ushered quickly along.

Bidding goodbye to Charles for him to go and find her family somewhere in the tiered seating around the edge of the room, she doesn't have time for much more than a cursory glance at the table plan. It's like looking for a needle a haystack, so she's relieved when a production assistant helps them out and then offers to escort her and Stevie to their table in the already dimmed function room.

Spotting Christopher Nolan, Eloise is thrilled to learn their tables are almost back to back, near the front, close to the stage.

Someone, somewhere, has done them an absolute solid. And she can't even bring herself to care if it was a scheming producer, hoping for some opportunistic shots; not when she can have Harry directly in her sights all night, seated just eight or so feet away.

More than a little starstruck, by the time she's done the rounds greeting everyone else at Reese's big table - mostly the Big Little Lies cast, with just her, Stevie, Sam and their director, Jim, making up the Daisy Jones & The Six contingent - Eloise looks up to spot Harry, beaming as he heads directly towards her, flanked by his mum and rowdy cast mates. Tom, Jack and Fionn are also representing Dunkirk tonight.

Impressively, just minutes later, and bang on 5pm, the lights drop and the show starts.

>

It's a huge spectacle and fascinating to behold. And, with James at the helm as host, there have been more than a few gags thrown in.

It amuses Eloise no end when everyone frantically scrambles back to their seats just before the end of each commercial break. Yet they all still jump up and mingle or dash to the bar or toilets when the live transmission cuts every ten minutes or so.

They didn't win for Best Original Song; missing out, unsurprisingly to that hit from The Greatest Showman.

She should have thought to check the running order. Of the twenty six awards spanning both film and TV categories, she realises belatedly that the only other ones she's really interested in are 22nd, 23rd and 26th.

Had she known, she'd have nailed a couple of glasses of wine early on, but now, she worries she's left it too late and sips relatively demurely, determined to pace herself.

It's not easy, given Reese's table is getting riotous. And deservedly so. Big Little Lies won four of its six nominations.

With the likes of Nicole Kidman sitting opposite her, clutching her shiny new award, and Reese alongside her with another two, Eloise can only pinch herself.

Never having felt more like an imposter, she decides to focus on this bizarre evening as the ultimate opportunity for some people watching. It proves a great distraction.

>

After they settle down from the disappointment of Christopher Nolan having just been robbed for Best Director, Eloise realises with a start that she's up after this next one. Fuck!

She doesn't think she's in with a chance; she really doesn't.

But, over the last four weeks, she's had enough people float 'what if's' and 'maybe's' and point out that one in five isn't terrible odds, that a tiny part of her can't help but think, well, what if?

As James introduces the next presenters, she jumps in surprise when Reese and Stevie grab hold of her hands in eager anticipation. Clocking the camera pointing at her from over Nicole's shoulder, she has to focus hard on ignoring it.

She tries prising a hand free to able to reach for a quick sip of her wine, but they both have her in a vice-like grip. Fucking fuck!

But her attention is quickly diverted, soon absorbed in watching clips of some amazing performances. Olivia Colman in The Favourite - quite literally. Emily Blunt, as Mary sodding Poppins, no less. And the Charlize Theron, for Tully. She'll admit she thinks she has the fourth nominee beat - a young teen from a movie she hasn't even heard of.

She can't help but find it physically jarring to then see her own face up on the screen; it just seems completely incongruous, in such esteemed company. The Daisy camouflage is good, and it's a fraught, spiralling and strung-out scene, but it's definitely her.

Jumping again at the resounding cheer from the surrounding tables, this suddenly feels all too real. Fucking fucketty fuck!

Eloise's attention is still fixed on the screen - distracted with how bizarre it looks to see her name alongside theirs - when Reese and Stevie jump to their feet, setting off a symphony of clattering chairs as everyone else around them follows suit.

With an overwhelming roaring in her ears, she can only look up at them in confusion, as they squeal with delight and try to tug her to her feet.

She legitimately hadn't heard them say her name. They didn't, did they? Fuck, after all the hoo-ha at last year's Oscars, this would be so embarrassing if they got it wrong.

It's only when she looks across the table and catches Nicole nodding enthusiastically and mouthing "Yes, you did it!", that Eloise finally jumps up in shock, staggering in her heels as they jostle her around.

Diminutive as they are, they almost topple her in a tight dual hug.

"No wayyyy!", she cries, wide eyed, with a camera right in her face.

Rebounding shakily from their embrace, and then from Sam and Jim's quick congratulations, she turns, gathering the front of her long skirt to step carefully around the scattered chairs, only to lock eyes with Harry.

The look in his eyes and the most beautiful smile across his face stop her in her tracks. God, he's handsome. It takes her a split second to realise it's all for her.

Little does she know, her own sparkling eyes and beaming smile mirror his perfectly. The cameraman positioned between them certainly notices.

With her eyes still on Harry, she starts to blindly follow the producer ushering her towards the stage, when she finally comes to her senses.

Literally. The roaring in her ears fades to reveal the rapturous cheering and clapping around her; for her. And the dancing spots marring her vision are from the light bar atop the handheld rig of the cameraman in front of her; on her.

But also figuratively. She pauses mid-stride and whirls around on the ball of her foot, swiftly dodging a chair to throw her arms tightly around him. Pulling back, and operating purely on instinct alone, she kisses him.

Then her sense of touch seems to kick into hyperdrive, all at once. Responding eagerly, she can feel the tight caress of his warm hands on her bare back; the clack of their teeth as they can't quite contain their smiles; Anne excitedly squeezing her arm from alongside him; one of his cast mates patting her shoulder; and then the producer's hesitant hand at her elbow, trying to hurry her along.

>

She's not quite sure how, but she makes it up and on to the stage without falling, and accepts congratulatory hugs and kisses on the cheeks from the presenters; Chris Hemsworth (swoon) and Jennifer Aniston (double swoon, actually).

Stepping up to the podium, she points her thumb over her shoulder and mouthes "Jennifer Aniston?!". It's entirely for Harry's benefit, but it raises a chuckle from the wider audience too.

She does a double take back towards them, then, holding a finger up at the podium, steps swiftly back and checks the envelope for herself.

Returning to the microphone, the crowd laughs again as she proceeds to fan herself with the envelope.

"Oh, wow, okay...", she gulps. There's a tittering chatter from the crowd at the contrast of her English accent to the husky SoCal drawl they'd just seen in the clip of her as Daisy. She's still otherwise relatively unknown, and her polished look is a world away from Daisy's 70s skimpy carefree vibe too.

"Oh, God, these queens... Quite literally", she gestures to Olivia and Emily, and does a double take when they both jump up to clap and cheer. She can't find Charlize in the crowd, but realises she's probably taking too long and sounding inarticulate as fuck. What was it Charles said? If you're nervous, just focus on acting like you're not?

She tilts the mic up. "There has to be a mistake somewhere... I'll make this quick, so I can make a run for it with this before they realise", she hefts the surprisingly heavy statue between her hands.

"Okay...", she lets out a deep breath. "Thank you's. Firstly, to all the voters. Then to three incredible women..." - she's promptly interrupted by a resounding cheer from the #timesup contingent around the room - "Without whom this simply could not have happened for me. Taylor Jenkins-Reid, thank you for this gem of a character. Reese, thank you for believing in me and fighting to give me the mother of all chances. And Stevie, for being my icon and hero and the most incredible inspiration, this is for you". She rattles off props to Jim and the other executive producers and her six cast mates. "And thank you to my agent, Charles King; not least for putting up with me badgering you about this role. To my friends, and my family, thank you for absolutely everything. And H... I cannot thank you enough. I love you, so much", she swallows thickly. "Thank you, thank you". After blowing kisses, she finally looks down at the award in her hands for a beat, and a tear spills.

She comes back to herself at the touch of someone's hand at her elbow again.

It's James. Thrilled to bits for her, he pulls her into a tight hug. It's awkward as she towers over him in her heels; and even more so when he picks her up and spins her around.

Setting her carefully down again, he laughs into his mic. "I won't do that to the rest of the winners, don't worry!", he guffaws. "It's just that Eloise, here, is my best mate's little sister; I've know her for ten years. And she's one of the very best people I know", he gushes proudly as he escorts her, arm in arm, to the side of the stage.

"You've literally never been that nice to me!", she laughs as he reaches up to give her a kiss on the cheek before handing her off to the production assistant, ready to help her down the short flight of steps towards the waiting bank of photographers and press gathered backstage.

Oh, God, that really happened.

It's only as she's guided backstage that she realises what she'd just done; unequivocally outing them with that hug and kiss and then that speech. Oh, my fucking God!

>

Entirely distracted, she can't recall exactly what she'd said to the waiting photographers and camera crews. A few definitely commented on her and Harry, but she was whisked off almost immediately, needing to get back to her seat in time for the next award.

Waiting in the wings, at the beginning of the commercial break she gets the signal and dashes back to her table.

It's probably only been three minutes since she left her seat, but it feels like a lifetime. It feels like everything has changed.

They all jump up to congratulate her, but Harry gets in there first. "Shit, I'm so sorry baby, I didn't even think!", she babbles.

"What on earth have you got to be sorry for?", he shakes his head, bemused, as Anne worms her way between them for a hug of her own.

Pulling back quickly, they let Ben, Mer, her parents and Charles all get a quick hug and a kiss too. They only just clear the cameras in time as the break cuts back to James on stage to announce the next award.

Unfortunately, they don't win Best Musical or Comedy Film, losing out to The Disaster Artist.

But they're all still buzzing over her triumph, and more and more people flock over to congratulate her during the last couple of commercial breaks.

>

Then it happens all over again, when Dunkirk beats the odds to win the final award, Best Drama Film.

As her table jumps up and claps graciously, Eloise is a little wilder. Stepping behind her chair, she cheers and eagerly congratulates all of Harry's friends before he pulls her into his arms and lifts her off the ground.

"Put me down, H! You have to get up there", she laughs in his ear.

"The cat's finally out the bag, baby... I'm never going to put you back down ever again!".

Stepping over to hug Anne, they beam with pride watching him up on stage, simpering when he steps in to add a heartfelt thanks to Christopher for championing new talent and inspiring newcomers to the industry with his passion and drive.

It's a lovely moment as the veteran director swallows thickly and nods his thanks, then promptly slings his arm around Harry as they leave the stage to pull him into a hug.

>

When the lights come back up after the live transmission wraps and they formally close the ceremony, just before 8pm, they're sitting with a haul of seven gleaming statues across their two tables.

Loitering until their various guests have joined from the tiered seating, they then make their way in a noisy rabble to the hotel's pool deck for the first of the afterparties; HBO.

They quickly suss that the parties are essentially about internally freaking out whilst trying to play it cool. And about disconcertingly familiar faces, in unanticipated pairings and unexpected locations. It's like a weird Hollywood version of Cluedo.

Take Christian Bale, gesticulating wildly with Regina King, by the lifeguard chair.

Or Michael Douglas and Glenn Close, nattering by the toilets.

And, evidently, Gary Oldman, striking up an unlikely bromance with Crispin Cadogan, queuing for the bar.

Eloise had been having a quiet word with her dad when Gary had embraced her like an old friend and congratulated her heartily. They'd only met yesterday. But it's enough for him and her dad to strike it off as new best buds, apparently. Who knew he's such a rugby fan?

With her award still in hand, she's stopped and congratulated every few steps, so it takes her longer than she'd like to make it back, around the pool, to Harry and their little gang.

Private and secure, and surrounded by people who similarly respect privacy and discretion, it quickly becomes apparent that afterparties are the perfect foil for a newly outed couple.

Continuously congratulated by friends and acquaintances, and unexpected A-list fans and good old fashioned romantics alike, Harry and Eloise get to enjoy getting to grips with letting their guard down in a protectedly public setting.

>

Saying goodbye to Reese and co, they leave the pool deck to head to the hotel's Oasis courtyard for the Warner Brothers' and InStyle afterparty, just after 9pm.

When she insists it's that she's too wild for the afterparty and not the other way around, after her long and tight hug with Eloise, Harry gallantly offers Stevie his arm and escorts her outside to her waiting car.

Chatting with Anne and her mum whilst trying to avoid Charles dragging her away to meet more bigwigs, Eloise is taken aback when Olivia Coleman and Emily Blunt approach. They're gracious and complementary, totally down to earth and unexpectedly funny.

Nicole Kidman then asking to drag Eloise off for a proper chat impresses all the others; even her mum.

A few minutes later, shaking herself at the conversation she just had, Eloise spots Harry laughing from across the courtyard, and keeps her head down to hurry over to him with minimal interception.

As she approaches, he and Ben swiftly tug her behind the huge potted palm tree that they're not so stealthily trying to hide behind, and eagerly point out what has them in stitches.

Anne and Elin are enraptured, locked in discussion with the good-natured, and phenomenally good-looking, Chris Hemsworth.

"Oh, my God, are they flirting with him?". She's not quite sure if it's amusing or horrifying, and seeing Harry and Ben dissolve into stitches again, she decides to take matters into her own hands.

Striding over, she intervenes, and catches the withering looks they both send her way as his attention shifts to her, quickly congratulating her again on her win.

Harry abruptly stops laughing, when, after less than twenty seconds, Eloise is giggling and simpering at him too.

"Bloody hell! Is this guy an actual fucking superhero or something?", he grumbles, passing Ben his glass as he too stalks over to intervene.

Eloise returns to her brother a few minutes later, dragging their mum behind her. "God, it's like a charm off! I'm not quite sure if it's safe for those two to be in the same place at the same time...", she looks back over her shoulder and rolls her eyes at the crowd of tittering women now surrounding Chris and Harry.

>

After Eloise managed to prise Harry back and shake off his new fans and enamoured hangers-on, they readily agree it's time to move on.

Following the signs, they weave through the bowels of the hotel in a maze of unglamorous back corridors, to emerge directly opposite the Waldorf Astoria, the opulent venue for the next afterparty; Netflix.

It's a mere fifteen second walk, over the road and across their valet parking circle, but it's long enough for a frenzy of paps to hound them with questions about their wins and their relationship.

It might be the tequila kicking in, but, for once, Harry delights in the attention, finally able to throw his arm around Eloise and parade her proudly.

As they enter the hotel, shielded from the eager flashbulbs, they join the short queue to get into the Netflix party; slowed down by the waiting bank of accredited photographers on the way in.

More than ready to let her hair down, Eloise hands over her statue for James to hold whilst she struggles with the fiddly hidden fixings inside the waistband of her skirt. As Mer and Anne try to help and bend to take a closer look, she clocks him pretending to run off with her award.

"We both know I'd catch you, even in these heels, Cordo!", she laughs, reaching to clutch it back.

Feeling a flutter of silk around her legs, she throws her free arm out for balance and twirls. The long pleated outer layer billows up around her as it unravels, dramatically revealing her long legs and the draped silk mini skirt underneath.

It's an amazing photo, and one that will make more than a few front pages tomorrow.

Harry makes some style tweaks of his own. Unfastening his cummerbund, and passing it to his mum to stow in her bag, he then unbuttons the neck of his silk shirt to half way down his chest. Finally, he reties the ends of his bow tie, so it's just draped low against his chest. "Ahh, so much better, I can breathe!".

Harry Lambert, who? This man has an inherent, effortless style all of his own; and he looks all the hotter for it.

Hooking a finger into the loop of his tie, Eloise can't resist giving him a kiss. And, well, she doesn't have to; not any more.

Then, with a flurry of hugs and kisses, it's time to part ways.

Nearing 10pm, Anne - now wearing the top layer of Eloise's silk skirt like a cape - and Crispin and Elin are heading off, jet lagged but also eager to let the youngsters have their fun. And Mer leaves too, needing to get back to Ruby and relieve Gemma.

So, heavily outnumbered, as per usual, Eloise heads inside with Harry, Ben, James, Jeff and Charles. After such an eventful evening, they're all up for letting loose. Jack and Tom tag along too; but they'd lost Fionn somewhere, oops.

As they reach the front of the queue, the photographers holler at Harry and Eloise, keen to finally get them together. After a few quick, whispered words, shrugged shoulders and matching grins, Harry squeezes her hand and proudly leads her on to the red carpet.

It marks their first official public appearance together. Ignoring the photographers' barked instructions and demands, they're so wrapped up in each other, they can't help but just smile, laugh and chat almost the whole time.

When he notices her blinking faster, he drops a quick peck to her lips then calls time, before her eyes start watering. "Alright, that's your lot! It's blinding", he calls out good-naturedly, laughing off their complaints as he guides her away with an arm slung around her shoulder.

>

Eloise is pounced upon as soon as she steps inside the party.

Chris Sussman, the Commissioning Editor who took a punt on Killing Eve, pulls her into a tight congratulatory hug, but they're soon interrupted by an over-eager publicist. Eloise has only met her once or twice and has to curtail her talking shop, reminding her she's off their clock for the night and has something she's pretty keen to start celebrating.

Starting to feel schmoozed out, when Charles finally gets the message that she's done with networking for the night, they commandeer a corner and settle in.

They're soon joined by an effusively proud and teary Rosie and Adele, then Suki too.

Heading out to the terrace to keep them company whilst they smoke, she bumps into Phoebe, who then heads back in with them.

Returning to their raucous and evidently Brit-dominated corner, she finds Gemma Chan, Florence, Douglas and Ben Hardy have since arrived. Oh, and Ansel too - Anglophile that he is - chatting with Harry.

Her feet barely touch the ground as they all greet her excitedly.

By far the noisiest is when Hurricane Reese blows back through. She's so thrilled for her favourite newly public couple that she clambers over legs, swiping at drinks on the table in her gown, to sit down right between them.

When she spots her loaned diamond ring again, Reese insists it makes more sense for her to take it home directly. Eloise enlists Harry to serve as witness and videographer and makes her sign a napkin to confirm she'd taken it back before she skips off to goodness knows where.

Feeling lighter, Eloise shuffles surreptitiously closer to Harry. Planting a hand for balance, dangerously high on his thigh, she leans up to whisper in his ear. "Can I kiss you? I need to kiss you".

"You absolutely can, baby", he beams down at her, wrapping a hand around her hip to tug her flush against his side. "And it feels so good, doesn't it?", he rubs his nose against hers teasingly before dipping his head to capture her lips, earning catcalls and whoops from some of their closest friends; all of whom had played a part in helping keep their relationship relatively under wraps for so long.

"Mmm", she nods, pulling back as the girls urge her to join them. "I need tequila, a dance floor and you", she purrs. "You can choose the order... Oh, and tell me if you find anywhere suitable for that little anniversary celebration, okay?".

Well, someone's definitely feeling good.

>  
>

8th January 2018

Eloise wakes in Harry's arms, utterly convinced it must have all been an amazing dream, until she catches sight of their finery discarded on the chaise longue and then, behind his shoulder, two gold statues on his nightstand.

Dropping her head back to her pillow, intent on gazing at his fine features, she catches the quick quirk of his lip and pull of his dimple. "Mmm, I just did that too...", he hums lowly. "Take a minute, let it all sink in".

Tugging her closer into his chest, keeping his eyes shut, his smile grows before it breaks across his face and he tips his head back in a gleeful laugh, setting her off too.

"Ahh... What a night, baby!". Rolling back, he pulls her with him, draped over his chest as they start trading whispered anecdotes and favourite memories from the night before.

Eyeing his phone flash on the nightstand, she nods with her chin. "Have you braved a look?".

He looks over his shoulder, "Not yet... Shall we?". At her nod, he twists to grab it, then drags her closer, nestled in the crook of his arm.

Clearing the notifications jamming his lock screen with a quick press of his thumbprint, the numbers littering the app icons on his home screen have her wincing. Thumbing to Instagram and then his public profile and tagged photos, every single one them, for as far as he quickly scrolls down, is from last night and features her too.

"Cat's definitely out the bag then!", she grins up at him.

"Certainly seems so...", he smirks back. "Although, I don't think we actually said anything, did we? Maybe we should?".

"Well, some pictures speak loudly enough...".

"What, like you jumping in my arms and snogging my face off on live TV?", he sasses.

"Oh, don't say it like that!", she cringes, trying to burrow in the duvet to hide her blush.

"I'm kidding! But hang on, humour me, I have an idea...", he waggles his eyebrows as he tugs her back up.

Leaning forward on his haunches in front of her, happily art directing his shot, from her perch where he'd dragged her to the other end of the bed, she's unashamedly happy just perving on his bum.

Finally done fussing, he sits back next to her and frames a rare selfie, in bed, of all places. But it's of their statues, nestled together on a pillow, tucked into the duvet. The sun streaming in through the chiffon drapes of the wide window behind them casts their intertwined shadows against the headboard.

Posting it to Instagram with a modest 'Alright night...' caption, he's about to toss his phone aside when a new text pops up. Seeing it's from his dad, he opens it straight away.

It just says 'Congratulations!! So bloody proud! Not least for this...', with a photo of the front page of the Metro newspaper from London.

Pinching at the screen to zoom in, he sees it's the photo of Eloise, clutching her award and beaming as she twirls out of her long silk skirt, with the headline 'Our golden girl'.

He can't help but gape down at her, "...Fuck me!".

"Well...", she smirks, "If you insist!", Swinging a leg, she straddles his lap.

With one arm wrapped around her back, he leans forward, pressing her into the mattress, only pausing to shove the statues out of their way.

>

Freshly showered, they head downstairs half an hour or so later, holding hands as they round the bottom of the stairs and head to the living room.

There's a chorus of cheers as they emerge, blushing, on to the balcony.

"There they are, the 'golden couple', indeed!", Anne trills, turning her iPad around with that very headline splashed across a photo of them from the Netflix afterparty.

Embracing in a smiling kiss, her arms are crossed behind his neck, her award in one hand and a bottle of champagne in the other; his are wrapped tightly around her, one grasping his own award at her hip.

Gemma, Crispin, Elin, Ben, Mer and Ruby, are all gathered around, beaming at them.

When Harry heads back inside to make fresh coffees, he's distracted seeing all the champagne squeezed into the fridge.

Returning outside with a tray of glasses and two bottles, no one takes much convincing.

>

As they belatedly fix brunch, the gate starts buzzing and doesn't stop for a while.

Jeff and Glenne; Mitch and Sarah; Tom and Jenny. Adele and Rosie, both childfree. And James and Julia, with their three in tow.

Hoards of congratulatory gifts arrive too; from elaborate floral displays, to extravagantly wrapped gift baskets, and magnums of champagne.

As the corks keep popping, their chilled brunch spills into lunch, then an afternoon pool party, then cocktails and a grazing dinner, then all bets are off.

It's relaxed and easy and silly, and somehow feels even better than the night before.


	4. Part D

11th January 2018

Eloise wakes up feeling disorientated, craning her neck back as grey fills her vision; weak beams of early sunlight dancing across its canvas.

Ah, the living room sofa.

They evidently hadn't made it back upstairs after getting frisky as soon as they got in from dinner in Beverly Hills last night. Being able to hold her hand, and be outwardly protective of her in front of the paps, had done things to Harry, and she wasn't complaining one bit. So upon getting home to a silent house, and remembering their guests had finally all left... Well, they were lucky they made it to the sofa.

Her other senses start catching up. The gentle slide of his broad palm, down her left thigh to hook behind her knee; the low rumble of his groan after inhaling deeply; the press of his nose and mouth between her legs; the flutter of cool air as he sighs.

Lifting her left leg, he arcs it through one hundred and eighty degrees to open her up for him. The movement shifts her, from her right side, on to her back, splayed open before him. Dazed and still coming to, she blinks, squinting into the light, and lifts her head to peer down at him.

Popping up on an elbow, he looks up at her, and the charming, boyish, dimpled grin across his face is at odds with the slight sheen evident on his chin and lips, and the naughty, self-satisfied look in his rich mossy green eyes. His hair's still a riot after all her tugging last night.

"Good morning, baby", he beams.

"Apparentl-mmh!", she trails off as he drops suddenly back down, nosing through her folds with a ragged inhale, tongue probing and lips suctioning.

When those angelic lips suckle sinfully and his tongue lathes her clit, she starts writhing. Then the added suction has her scrabbling at both the sofa and his hair for purchase, feeling in danger of floating away. She can't help but arch her back and let out a soft string of colourful curses.

It's discombobulating; not quite properly awake, but totally overwhelmed, with him.

But feeling him smile against her makes her melt. Immediately grounded, she's distracted with the weight of her feelings for him.

When he draws his fingers back down her thigh to join the party, he anticipates her movement and wraps his other arm across her hips, holding her down in a bid to keep her slim but deceptively strong thighs from smothering him.

That he can pin her so effortlessly with just a forearm, and a little downward pressure from his broad shoulders, only makes her feel more hot and bothered.

Two masterful, long fingers; sinking, curling, pressing, sliding, swirling. Again, and again. Fuck.

That skilful tongue; lapping, circling, teasing, flicking. Playfully persistent.

Those pretty lips; pillowing, pressing, nibbling, sucking. Unrelenting in their affection.

Resistance is futile. She doesn't have a hope in hell of fighting the tidal wave of pleasure rapidly peaking, ready to engulf her.

With a whimper, she stretches out her right leg against the back of the sofa. Curling her toes in pleasure, she scrabbles for purchase against the meat of his bum, until his muffled groan of protest has her hooking her knee over the back of the sofa instead, wide open for him again.

A shiver racks up her spine as the chill of the air conditioning momentarily hits her heat.

Another whimper sets him grunting, and when he doesn't stop, she cranes her head back up, and sees the bob of his taut bum as he ruts his hips into the sofa cushion, chasing some relief of his own.

It's indescribable, how hot it makes her, that he seems to take almost as much pleasure as her from this. 

Well, almost. He's fucking masterful at it.

But she needs him. "Babe...", she whines, cording her fingers through his hair, scoring her nails gently over his scalp which only has his hips moving that bit faster.

He pulls back only enough to mumble throatily, "Like that? That's it...".

"Oh, baby...", she sighs, tugging at his thick curls to get his attention. "Need you, please".

"You've got me", he redoubles his efforts.

"No, H-", she pulls harder at his hair, words failing her.

She never says 'no' to him, ever. He stills and looks up, immediately making her mewl at the abrupt loss of contact.

"Need you, need more, need to come around your cock", she pants, writhing and totally worked up.

He sniggers, already dropping back down. "Needy little thing, hmm? You're right there, just let go, then you can have me".

A final suck on her clit, and the surprising press of his long little finger somewhere naughty, bursts the floodgates and a powerful orgasm washes over her, rendering her a twitching, spasming puddle. "Fuck", she cries out raggedly.

Having watched, half smug, half in awe, as her high peaked at his command, Harry wastes no time in pulling himself up to sit back on his calves, shuffling closer.

Hooking his forearm under her lower back, he lifts her hips to pull her up to his lap.

The angle's perfect. With a swipe of his achingly hard cock through her slick folds, he pulls her on to him, burying to the hilt and tilting his body forward over hers.

His smooth move on her pliant, tingling body, still cresting the waves of her high, has her gasping and snapping her eyes back up to his face.

If she wasn't already rendered speechless, she would be at a loss for words at the feel of him, hot and hard and heavy, setting her walls aflutter again.

Seeing his gaze locked downward, she drops hers to see what has him transfixed; the pulsing bulge of his tip, visible through the wall of her lower abdomen.

Fucking hell! It's one of the hottest thing she's ever seen. And it feels even better.

The only movement is from her walls rippling around him, clenching and fluttering. It's the most incredible thing she's ever felt; extending her already intense orgasm for at least another minute.

She can't help but giggle. "Oh, fuck! What have you done to me? Holy shit, this feels...", she tails off, breathily, words failing her.

Cutting her gaze back to his, she clocks his moony, shellshocked expression and hopes it feels nearly as good for him.

But the tensed tendons of his neck, throbbing vein at his temple, beads of sweat at his hairline and desperate press of his fingers at her hips, all point to a man desperately holding back.

Taking pity, in a display of flexibility and strength, she arches her back and rounds up, vertebrae by vertebrae, until she's perched up in his lap, canting her hips and leaning into his chest.

The shifting angle and pressure has him crying out, which she swallows with her kiss, only too eager to help him find some relief.

After a clench focuses his attention, he takes the hint at the seductive roll of her hips and shifts to start pistoning his into her. Meanwhile, their lips and hands scrabble for purchase against each other, desperate to get even closer.

Still perched on his folded legs, he soon gets frustrated at the limited power and range of motion.

Lifting her in his arms briefly, he rolls forward, still buried deep, so she ends up laying back against the sofa.

When his feet find purchase, he finds a little relief in stretching out his tightened hamstrings.

After hooking her right leg over the back of the sofa again, he starts a delicious rolling rhythm, burying into her and then pulling back, pace building until he's railing into her pliant and welcoming heat.

Setting her off again on a slow burn, it's not long until she clamps around him, milking everything he has, until they collapse in a sweaty, spent, boneless heap. Entirely blissed out.

After a minute or so, he mumbles into her neck, still sucking in deep breaths as he drops open mouthed kisses to her flushed skin. "Am I crushing you? I'm not sure I can move yet".

Still breathless herself, she laughs airily. "No, I love it, don't you dare move!".

As she hikes her left leg around his waist in an attempt to pull him impossibly closer, the shifting angle has him slipping from her and they both hiss dejectedly.

He drops a hand between them, adjusting himself, before gently stroking her, making her twitch and gasp again. "Do you feel okay?".

"Ask me again when I try to stand up!", she giggles.

"That was a lot, sorry!", he grins sheepishly. "I just couldn't resist. I think the thought of people knowing you're mine is doing things to me... Well to my ego, anyway", he chuckles softly, raking a hand through her hair.

"Well, if it's anything like that, feel free to stroke my ego anytime, baby!", she nudges his head from her neck to find his lips in a loving kiss.

As he shifts to rest his weight on his forearms, she cranes her neck to follow him, pouting when he pulls too far back. "It's still pretty early... Want to head up and try to get a couple of hours kip? Your interview's at eleven, right?".

After a final peck, he pushes himself back up to kneeling with a groan.

But, as she tries to follow, he splays his hand over her stomach, holding her still as he rakes his eyes over her. Legs still spread for him; chest heaving, still trying to catch her breath; one hand laced over his, against her abs, tensing as she laughs; the other raking through her tousled blonde waves, shining like golden spun silk in the early light; bright blue eyes sparkling, as she bites at her lower lip to contain her laughter.

"My actual dream woman... How did I ever get so lucky?", he whispers in disbelief.

"Says the man who woke me up like that!", she laughs, shaking her head. "I don't think i could possibly be any happier than I am right now", she beams at him.

"You sure that's not just your fanny still fluttering?", he quips cheekily, easily dodging her shove at his shoulder.

"Well, you're not entirely wrong", she admits with a sly grin, "But, no, it's all you... Promise me we'll always be this happy?".

"Happier", he leans forward to capture her lips with his again.

"Impossible", she mumbles into his kiss. "I love you".

"Mmm, so much. Now, come on", he jumps up and reaches for her hands. "Let's head up... And, despite you looking all wanton, I promise I'll try to keep my hands off you".

"No! You don't need to say things like that anymore... And certainly not in our own bedroom, mister". 

They trade smirky smiles and flirty touches as they shuffle around, a little wobbly, picking up all the clothing discarded in haste last night.

>

Eloise has had a busy few days with a quick LA press tour for Killing Eve. She'd had just a morning to get over their Golden Globe festivities, then flitted across LA, juggling interviews since Tuesday afternoon.

After their fun early this morning, Harry dropped her off for her final early lunch meeting at Soho House West Hollywood.

Having run his mysterious errands, he was a little early returning to pick her up at 2pm. Loitering in a corner of the underground car park, he'd suddenly realised he didn't need to, and headed straight inside with a spring in his step.

He arrives in the lobby just as Eloise heads down the long concrete staircase. Catching the flush to her cheeks, he can only smirk as she pauses at the mezzanine landing to say goodbye to the Vanity Fair journalist, who's grinning looking between the two of them.

Skipping down the final flight, she swoops straight into his arms for a quick kiss. "That felt weird", she chuckles. 

"Good weird?", he pulls back, smirk replaced with a worried frown.

"Great weird", she smiles brightly.

>

Not intending to let go of Harry's hand anytime soon, Eloise frowns when they pull up to CBS Studios, just on the other side of the Hollywood Hills, thirty minutes later.

This is the final stop on her mini press tour, and it's by far the most daunting.

After losing their little tug of war, she has a mini freak out and dawdles, delaying getting out of the car.

Rounding the bonnet with a grin, totally on to her, Harry braces an arm on the door frame, looking down at her as she buries her head in her handbag. Shit, she's cute.

The longer he waits, the wider his smile stretches across his face. "Baby...?".

"Mmm hmm?", she keeps her head down.

"You alright there?".

Braving a look up at him, and immediately knowing he's on to her, she throws her head back against the headrest and wails dramatically. "I don't want to do this! He's going to absolutely roast me, I just know it", she huffs.

He can't contain his bark of laughter. "Come on, little rainbow...", he drops a kiss to her hand when he takes it back and tugs her down from the car.

Slinging his arm around her shoulder, he twists to drop kisses to her temple as he steers her inside, greeting familiar faces on their way into the Late Late Show studio. 

Sneaking on to the main floor during rehearsals, Harry leans against the side wall and tugs Eloise to rest against his chest, intent on dropping kisses to her neck.

Blushing, she can't help but immediately try to pull from his grip when Ben notices them and hollers across the studio. It's going to take a while to get used to being openly affectionate; it's weird, but feels like a revelation.

>

After introducing her to the team, Ben talks Eloise through the plan for later.

When James cackles, playing Taylor Swift's Out of the Woods as her intro music, she has a fit at him.

"No fucking way! That's not even funny. I have zero interest in engaging in any beef with her or her squad", she levels flatly, hand on hip. Ben groans in despair as James sasses back. "I'm not messing around, James! Don't you dare".

"I've got this, don't worry", Harry jumps up and pecks a kiss to her head, before heading to the stage to have a chat with James, ready to beg him to go easy.

>

After her rehearsal, Eloise is introduced to the other guests backstage - Tyra Banks and Matt Smith, randomly enough.

It's disconcerting, seeing James and Ben in schmooze mode, and makes it all the more apparent how different they are with her and Harry. The sycophantic, ego fanning side of them makes her feel a bit icky. So, despite everything, she's actually never felt more grateful for James' merciless banter or Ben's brotherly teasing.

>

But still, approaching 5pm - showtime - she paces around her dressing room, antsy about the roasting she just knows she's in for.

Finishing up with Izzy and Sasha, she tugs at her outfit; a Self Portrait guipure lace black t-shirt, black leather trousers, and killer YSL stiletto pumps. Both are cropped and offer a tantalising peek of skin at her waist and ankles, but also through the fine detail of her lace top. A minimalist black mesh bra keeps things classy. Sasha had chopped a few more inches off her hair too; now falling in blunt waves just below her collar bones.

Unusually for the show, they're planning to bring her out later, so she has about fifteen more minutes to kill whilst James chats with Matt and Tyra first.

But, at the beginning of the show, there's a knock at her dressing room door and they film her saying hello.

James hoots with laughter at the staged dressing gown and glass of champagne in her hand. "Oh, God! Who let her have that? Hurry up and get ready you... Chop, chop!", he scolds.

Rolling her eyes, she playfully shuts the door in the cameraman's face, grinning as she reveals Harry, who had been hiding behind it.

Catching the shake in her hands as she necks the champagne and shrugs off the dressing gown, he launches into a little pep talk.

>

After a final kiss, she heads downs the ramp, loitering nervously in the wings, awaiting her cue. Hearing James' intro, she takes a few deep breaths and tries to put her game face on.

"Now, it's been a big week, and a hugely exciting one for a couple of very dear friends of our show... Without further ado, I am so excited to finally get to introduce our next guest. You'll know her as Eloise Cadogan, but to me she'll always be little J.B....".

Finally, rounding the corner, she emerges alongside the cheering audience to the right hand side of the studio. Ben pulls her in for a quick good luck hug before pushing her up on to the stage, towards James.

Her step falters mid-stride as the chorus of Only Angel rings out and James promptly starts cackling.

Shaking her head ruefully for a beat, she shakes it off and does a little shimmy to Reggie's jaunty jam.

James promptly greets her with an extravagant hug, sweeping her off her feet. "Give it up for our Golden Globe winning girl!", he shouts to the audience, as she greets Tyra and Matt.

"Congratulations again!", he beams at her.

"Thank you, thank you! Gosh, you haven't called me J.B. in forever!", she laughs, crossing her legs and getting comfy on the sofa.

"Umm, Ben made us stop", he scratches the back of his neck.

"What? Why?", she looks over to see Ben shaking his head from behind the camera, slicing his hand across his throat in warning to James.

"Well, I'll have to break it to you...", he sighs dramatically, "It didn't stand for Jellybean". He addresses the audience again, "I should explain, our Executive Producer, Ben, is Eloise's older brother. He's been my best mate forever, so I've known this one for what, ten years? I'm practically an honorary big brother".

"I've got enough of those", she scoffs a laugh before drumming her fingers on her chin. "I'd say you're more like a weird creepy uncle".

"Jail Bait, ladies and gents", James gestures to Eloise with a shit eating grin.

"Oh, my God, point proven! I was, like, fourteen!", she says, genuinely shocked, and twisting to gape back at Ben again.

"Moving swiftly on...", James says after an awkward cough. "Back to your actual name-".

"Yeah?".

"How are you enjoying Americans absolutely murdering it?", he cackles, saying it obnoxiously, exaggerating for affect, "Elouuuuise Caddoggghann. I don't get it, it's easy. It's like 'toboggan'; Eloise Cadogan", he explains with short vowels.

"Yes, we say 'toboggan', but American's pronounce that with longer vowels too, so that's no help. It's just accents", she shrugs, nonplussed and wondering where he's going with this.

"Nah, obviously too tricky", James ribs her, "You'll just have to change it...". He waits until she's taking a sip of water to add, "Mrs Styles has got a nice ring to it... Mrs Hairy Styles?". The audience lap it up, hooting and wolf whistling.

With the back of her hand to her mouth, recovering from spluttering water, she partially obscures her dropped jaw, but there's no mistaking her tellingly narrowed eyes. She clears her throat and quips, "Let's move on shall we?".

"Touché", he sasses. "But, okay, accents though...".

He reckons most people won't have realised she's English until her Golden Globes speech, then goes on to talk about Daisy and Villanelle.

After playing a clip of her as Daisy, he then interjects to gesture to the musician-less soundstage and asks if she's looking forward to singing for them later.

"No way, absolutely not!", she whips her head to Ben, shaking it vehemently.

James cackles, "I'm kidding, chill!".

He goes on to play a Killing Eve trailer, showcasing an impressive mix of Villanelle's looks and personas, then puts her on the spot to show off some accents. Russian; South African; Canadian. Then he gets increasingly specific. California girl; Southern Belle; Irish; Scottish; Welsh; even Scouse.

He asks how low she can go and if she can try to mimic his.

"It's easier the more different it is from my own, so probably not", she frowns, but gives it a go anyway and makes the audience laugh. It's close but the pitch isn't perfect. "Well, sorry if my voice never broke! I can't go too low, obviously".

"Oh, obvershley!", James grins, and she struggles to keep a straight face.

"Well, yours didn't, but his definitely did!", James nods at the screen behind her and she twists to see a photo of Harry, looking dapper on the Golden Globes red carpet last weekend. As James pretends to fumble with a remote, the audience lap it up and she just puts a hand to her forehead, shaking her head ruefully.

Leaving the photo up whilst he addresses the audience, she squirms and tries to avoid getting too distracted by it. "Now, we've been having some fun this week, with the gender swap app that's taken everyone by storm".

"What's that?".

"You haven't seen this?", he checks, surprised but excited.

"I've had a busy week!", she protests.

"Well, I'm gonna call it... We've won, game over!", he gloats, and starts projecting a sequence of photos. Eloise's photo in the app; female then male.

She gasps, he laughs.

He clues the audience in and brings up a photo of her and Ollie, side by side. "This is her actual twin brother, Ollie. Not identical obviously, but about as close as can be, I reckon. I call this game 'Where's W-Ollie?'. Woman-Ollie, get it?".

When the joke doesn't land, he tries to explain. "Like 'Where's Wally?', get it?". Hearing someone shout 'Waldo?' from the crowd, he swats a hand and tells them to forget it.

But it's uncanny. And he's done it with multiple photos.

She doesn't get them all right. "Does it work the other way?".

James clicks again to reveal Ollie as her. The resemblance is definitely there; not quite as good, but the end result is disturbing. Not least with female Ollie's stubble, broad shoulders, and thick neck.

"That's horrific!", she gasps as they cut to Ben, bent double with laughter behind the camera.

James then fumbles again with the remote and watches her face closely as a photo of Harry as a woman appears on screen.

"Fuck me!", she gapes, with her face flushing red. Her hand flies to her mouth when she realises she swore; they'll need to bleep that out in the edit.

James cackles. "So? Thoughts?".

"I think I need some time to process my feelings, and maybe reevaluate some things...", she laughs.

"Right?!", he joins in. "I need to reevaluate some things!".

Shuffling his cue cards on the desk, James turns to address her again. "Now, back to our actual mutual friend...", he smirks.

"We've got lots of mutual friends...", she says coyly, absolutely on to him.

On cue, he clicks to reveal the footage of them embracing during the Golden Globes ceremony.

"Oh, God, come on!", she huffs exasperatedly, biting her lip and trying to conceal her grin. With cheeks pink again, she dabs at her forehead, and can feel herself starting to sweat. Shit.

"You come on! You outed yourselves; as if I'm not going to go there? I've been there since literally the very beginning; it's killed me to keep quiet!".

They've put the footage on a loop; with pans in, contra zooms, ever more extreme close ups on their kiss and their beaming faces. She gets increasingly flustered as James ribs her about it.

Still hiding her face in her hands, she peeks between her fingers as there's a huge cheer and her jaw drops to see Harry, now suited and booted, stepping up on to the stage. "Alright, alright! Stop heckling her". Ben just looks on, smirking knowingly.

"Well, look at that, our surprise musical guest is a little early on his cue!", James cheers.

Eloise rolls comically down in her seat, ending up on her knees, hiding her face, needing a second. She had no idea he was even performing tonight. He must have dashed to get dressed and ready as soon as she left the dressing room. But where's the band? And when could they have sound checked?

Harry scoops his arms around her waist and hauls her up, whispering in her ear as he spins her and smothers her in a tight hug.

She blushes and shifts awkwardly as he pretends to lean over the desk and thump James. Then he sits down right next to her and kisses her on the lips, making the crowd go wild.

"Look at that", James crows. "Styles with the big kahunas!".

"That was torture, you arse! I couldn't just sit back and watch".

Despite being coy and feeling embarrassed at all the attention, they can't take eyes off each other.

"What?", Eloise asks at James' expectant look, chin perched in his palm.

"What?", James mimics back, rolling his eyes.

"We're not going to spill any details, but we're happy. Very happy!", Harry shrugs, twisting to look at her moonily.

"Alright, alright", James relents. "Well, let's see if I can't get you to spill anything another way... Join us for 'Spill your guts or fill your guts', ladies and gentlemen!".

>

As he drags them over to the table set up on the other side of the studio, James ropes Ben in too, keen to make it extra interesting. "You're literally the three most competitive people I know!", he rubs his hands with glee.

A production assistant sets Ben up with a microphone on his collar whilst James addresses the three of them and the audience as they sit down; Harry gallantly pulling out her chair makes them all swoon.

"Right, some ground rules...", James explains. "You two against us two. If your team mate refuses to answer a question, you both have to eat. Choose the food before asking your question; we've not prepared any tonight, so just go freestyle. And whoever's just had a question, asks the next one. There's a bucket and some water on the floor down there".

"Oh, okay", Eloise nods slowly, entirely distracted by the hideous dishes in front of them. "So something you could answer, but probably shouldn't?", she checks.

"That should make it interesting, yeah", James smirks devilishly. "Right, let's take a look at these fine delicacies...", he rubs his hands and hoots with laughter.

"Holy shit, what even is that?", Harry laughs, plugging his nose and then recoiling in horror, when James wafts it towards him.

"This is the worst ever! Why have you roped me in?", Ben huffs, looking nervous.

"Right, we've got salmon smoothie, cod sperm, bull's penis, beef tongue, giant water scorpion, vomit fruit, turkey testicles... This putrid bowl of hell is Swedish fermented sour herring - Surströmming, did I pronounce that right?".

"No", she deadpans, shaking her head slowly while staring at it with a grimace.

"And there are two mystery surprises, under these silver domes. Could be nice, but probably gross", he cackles again.

"Umm, ladies first?", Ben winces at Eloise. "Let's start off easy, it's just a little smoothie".

She looks at Harry with a frown as he takes a sniff and promptly gags.

"You don't even need to drink it, if you'll just admit what your other party trick is? Mimicking singers is the first one", Ben clues in the audience.

Eloise barks a laugh then makes a play of clinking her glass with Harry. "Sorry, babe".

"Yeah, no worries, do not answer that!", he agrees.

The salmon smoothie is set solid. Tipping the glasses upside down, they laugh before resorting to a fork, then tentatively eat a mouthful as James, Ben and the audience hoot with laughter.

Hunched over, between their seats, they both scramble for the bucket and he ends up accidentally spitting some on the ends of her hair. "Oh, God, sorry!".

"Ugh! It stinks!", she wipes it disdainfully with a napkin. "It doesn't taste too bad, but the texture is just awful. Like a flaky salmon yoghurt, ugh!". They both gag on cue and down plenty of water.

Eloise takes her revenge on James. "Surströmming, definitely", she points to the fermented sour herring. "If you can get past the smell, apparently it doesn't actually taste too bad".

"James... The morning after the big joint party for Ben's 21st and Lucas' 18th birthdays, did you prang our dad's car, and then let Lucas get blamed for it?".

Both their jaws drop, before Ben throws his head back and laughs.

James braves a sniff of the dish and recoils with a wail. "Absolutely no chance, that is horrific!". He looks sheepishly at Ben, then turns back to Eloise, arms held out to his sides. "Yep, yes I did! And it actually feels so good to get that off my chest; it's been weighing on my conscience for years! Sorry Lucas, sorry Crispin!".

After shaking his head at James, Ben waves over a production assistant to take the plate away, gagging at the stench. "It's putrid!".

Smiling smugly, James sets his sights on Harry, spinning the table top with a flourish. "Right, the giant water scorpion, I think", he grins.

Heads together and grimacing, Harry and Eloise peer at it in horror.

"Okay, Harold, ready? Between Louis, Liam, Niall and Zayn, rank...".

Harry eats immediately, biting into the giant water scorpion before James even finishes the question. The audience erupt into cheers at the mention of his former band mates and his refusal to say anything bad about them.

As he hurls it straight into the bucket, she looks on, aghast, passing him the water to gargle and spit back out.

When she turns back, James and Ben are staring at her expectantly, eyebrows raised. Oh shit.

Despite the hideous offerings, she can't help but get into it. A competitive head to head, with the chance to stitch both James and her big brother up, drop some zippy wit, be silly and dramatic, with adrenaline flooding her system, and Harry right alongside her? She's thriving.

She barely licks it before throwing it in the bucket as if recoiling. "Oops...! Well, what? I'm not going fishing in there for it", she shrugs as they boo her devious tactics.

It's time for Harry to get his own back. Humming as he spins the table teasingly back and forth, he makes his choice. "Okay, I'm thinking bull's penis... Right, Benjamin. Name an artist you've turned down for Carpool Karaoke?".

Ben and James look at each other and then the dish sceptically. Prodding at it, James raises an eyebrow, "It's squishy!".

They can't possibly answer the question, so grab a slice each and tentatively pop it in. "I can't get my teeth into it!", Ben whines, working his jaw.

"Well, it's not going to be hard is it?", Eloise snorts, creasing into laughter. She sets all the boys off and they're soon grappling for the bucket.

Ben pinches the bridge of his nose as he shakes his head at her, eyes narrowed.

Once she's regained her composure, she pounces and throws a question straight back at him. "Mmmkay...", she dissolves back into hysterical laughter before she can get the question out. She points a shaky finger to the bowl of vomit fruit. It's repulsive.

James wails, gagging already, just seeing it jiggle in the bowl.

Eloise finally manages to bite out, "Ben, have you ever... Sh-, shit your pants? ...As an adult?".

His jaw drops and face turns an alarming shade of pink.

"Mate, she's already given the game away", James hollers between his guffawing laughter. "I am not eating that, I can't", he gags, absolutely adamant.

"I was unwell!", Ben protests lamely. It sets the other three off again, all falling about with laughter and entirely losing it, dabbing at their eyes with their napkins.

"Oh, okay, if that's how it's going to be...", Ben warns, trying to hush their laughter. "This'll shut you up!", he warns.

Eyeing Harry, he drops a hand to one of the silver domes, grinning evilly. "Did you two ever hook up before Malibu?".

It stops their laughter immediately, and Harry and Eloise freeze and don't dare look at each other.

When Ben lifts the dome to reveal two massive spiders, she leaps back and jumps out her seat in fright. "No way! No bloody way!", she paces behind Harry's chair, shaking her hands out and tugging at her hair in dismay.

"You just have to pop it in your mouth, don't bite or swallow it", James explains.

Ben repeats the question. "Did you two ever hook up before Malibu? Should be an easy one", he shrugs.

Sitting back down heavily in her chair, Eloise gasps. Eyes wide, she peeks through her fingers to look at Harry, then eyes the spiders again. "Sorry, H, I just can't...", she closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. "Yes", she admits sheepishly.

James howls with laughter; Ben gapes and almost gives himself whiplash, looking between the two of them. Eloise slinks off her chair again, and Harry can't meet his eye, so busies himself covering the spiders back up again. 

Once they're all awkwardly back at the table, Harry clears his throat and looks up at James. "Hmm, not sure I have anything else to lose, so let's go cod sperm", he shrugs. "Who was your most badly behaved guest?".

James jiggles the bowl and pokes at it with a fork.

Giggling, Eloise pipes up. "Does it smell salty?", she snorts. "Go on, just swallow it!", she heckles.

Ben groans, head back in his hands.

She sniggers as Harry shifts a little in his seat, trying not to laugh and still not daring to meet Ben's eye.

James eyes them with a smug grin. "Okay then, you asked for it...", he shrugs back. "You two, in the dressing room earlier!".

"Bullshit!", Harry swears, jumping up from his seat in protest. "That is not true! You liar! What a cop out!". He's getting overly competitive. Shocker.

Once he's stopped laughing, James raises his eyebrows menacingly at Eloise. It's the final go.

She squirms in her seat as he drums his fingers on the second silver dome.

When he whips it off with a flourish, she and Harry both shout and recoil in horror. It's a single fish eye; just a bit smaller than a ping pong ball.

"Just a raw, crunchy, popping, gloopy fish eye...", he trills, nudging the dish closer to them, "Or, just a little question... Eloise, the choice is yours! Just tell us, what happened in the photo booth at that New Year's Eve party?".

"Oh, shit!", Harry barks and they burst into awkward, hysterical laughter, hands splayed to cover their faces as they dissolve into nervous laughter.

Ben's jaw drops, but he just about manages to keep a straight face - playing the role of menacing brother easily. He legitimately didn't know about this, but expects he won't like it much; they'd both implied nothing had happened before Malibu.

Eloise stares unblinkingly at the fish eye, jaw dropped in disgust. "Umm, is there any more salmon smoothie?", she quips, eyeing Harry in panic as she tugs at the neck of her lace t-shirt.

He leans closer and prods the eye, promptly gagging. It's utterly repulsive.

"Ugh, is that the optic nerve?", she points at the bloody trailing bit at the back.

"Mmm, chewy", James taunts, making her gag too.

"Oh, absolutely not! I cannot... I couldn't possibly-".

He cuts her off, palms raised. "It's an easy question! The two of you snuck into that photo booth for a while at that party... Just tell us, did you have a cheeky little kiss?".

"No!", she protests weakly, already laughing in defeat.

"More than kiss?", he prompts.

"No!", Harry jumps in, a little too adamant.

"Can you prove it?", James grins.

"Well, no...", she frowns.

"What happened to the photos?", James ponders.

"There weren't any... It didn't take any. Did it?", she gapes, turning to look at Harry in alarm.

"Ha!", James crows, clapping his hands with glee.

But, with one look at a stern looking Ben, Harry reacts impulsively and pops the fish eye in his mouth in desperation.

She's stunned speechless, totally horrified.

He immediately wails, grimacing and gagging as he grapples for the bucket.

"No! Why would you...?", she shouts at him.

"You mean these photos?", she cricks her neck, whipping back around to see James start pulling a narrow strip of photos out his suit jacket pocket.

There's a moment of shocked silence, before James cackles.

Then it's bedlam.

Harry sticks his head in the bucket and spits out the fish eye, retching and gagging.

Ben lunges for the photos.

Eloise stands to kneel on the table, intent on climbing over it to get to James.

Harry, once recovered, jumps up and tackles James clean off his chair.

The audience lap it up.

Guffawing with laughter and lying on the floor, grappling with the other three, James gives up on finding the right camera and shouts out, "That was 'Fill your guts or spill your guts'... Give it up for our incredible guests!".

"Fancy a kiss?", a giggling Harry puckers up at Eloise.

"No chance!", she shoves him off. "Possibly never again!".

Ben lets go of James' lapel, then unwraps his arm from around Eloise's waist, to reach around and pretend to throttle Harry.

"Not so fast, we need him alive!", James swats his hand away. "Ladies and gentlemen, please, give it up for a very good sport... The one, the only, Mr Harry Styles!".

Rolling away, Harry jumps up and sprints across the studio to his mic stand as the band kicks into the intro. Ben jokingly follows, hot on his heels.

Harry's still laughing and out of breath at the beginning of his opening verse of Only Angel.

As he dances around wildly, adrenaline and good spirits both running high, he only has eyes for Eloise.

>

After they wrap, a slightly sheepish Harry and Eloise face up to Ben.

But he pulls them into a tight hug, laughing gleefully. With their chemistry, he shouldn't be surprised something had happened earlier than he realised; it would always have been inevitable.

Considering quite how much amazing footage they'll have in the can, he dashes straight off to oversee the edit. He wouldn't ordinarily need to be quite so hands on, but he'd promised Eloise he wouldn't let anything too extreme make the final cut.

>

When Harry and Eloise pulled out of the studio parking lot a while later, they emerged to a flurry of paparazzi flashes, then headed to Soho House to meet up with James for an impromptu dinner.

Ben joined them at the bar just after 10.30pm, grinning from ear to ear and giddy with excitement. "It's so fucking good, just you wait!".

Harry and Eloise made it home and settled back on the sofa with a bottle of red wine, ready to watch the show when it was broadcast at 12.30am.

Well, they're officially, official. There's no turning back. Fans and the media go wild.


	5. Part E

Mid-January to mid-March 2018

It's weird, how quickly your perception of what's normal can change.

When the extraordinary, somehow, becomes your ordinary.

After their high-flying start to the year, Harry and Eloise didn't quite come back down to earth for a while.

Their hounding by the paparazzi and media peaked, then plateaued somewhat. Interest didn't abate, but the novelty, and indeed payday, of capturing them together tapered off. It helps that, to all intents and purposes, they're relatively boring. Endless shots of them happily hugging and chatting as they go about their business, just don't command the same price tag as some of their more dramatically-inclined peers.

The Oscar nominations were announced in late January. Disappointingly, with musicals and comedies so often at a disadvantage to the more dramatic, Eloise didn't receive any. Dunkirk scored eight nods, including Best Picture; but, with a reduced number of tickets for the ceremony, Harry wasn't overly keen on putting in all that effort, just for the after parties.

So, without the need to continue stoking the awards chatter or work the schmoozy Hollywood circuit, they were free to head home to London earlier than anticipated.

He had another month and a half before his tour resumed, and she was busy writing, but on her own schedule, so they were intent on making the most of their relative downtime.

>

They stopped off on their way home, for a magical few nights in New York.

After hanging out with them, both backstage and in the front row during all the star-studded tributes, Harry then had the honour of introducing Fleetwood Mac at their pre-Grammy's MusiCares benefit concert, in honour of their Persons of the Year award.

He then joined them on stage to perform The Chain. His favourite song, with his favourite band, and in front of the Grammy panels that had snubbed him?

Sweet, sweet music, indeed.

>

They made it home in time for Harry's birthday, and headed straight up to Holmes Chapel, for a fun but chilled day, celebrating with family and old friends.

But, that's not to say things quietened down in England for long, not at all.

They returned to London in time to see Eloise's brothers thrash Wales in a thrilling and suspense-filled win at Twickenham Stadium, during the Six Nations rugby championships.

And they were soon back into the scrum themselves; juggling stylist fittings and interviews.

The BAFTAs, in the middle of February, were glamorous but fairly reserved.

Both nominated, there was a huge buzz upon them arriving on the red carpet together.

Dazzling, in black sequinned Louis Vuitton for her and a black jacquard Gucci tux for him, they certainly looked the part.

Upon pulling up to the majestic Royal Albert Hall, he flashed a dimpled smile to the cameras as he buttoned his jacket, rounding the car to open her door and gallantly offer her a hand.

Watching with a moony smile as she stepped demurely out, he couldn't help but pull her in for a quick kiss.

Heading slowly up the tiered steps of the red carpet, they were alongside each other for all their subsequent interviews, and questions naturally crossed over.

There was more schmoozing and catching up with various friends and acquaintances at the bar - quite literally rubbing shoulders with the likes of Margot Robbie, Florence Pugh, Lily James, Daniel Craig, oh, and not to mention the Duke and Duchess of Cambridge. What is this life?

Seated alongside each other during the ceremony, the sense of eyes on them became increasingly tiresome as the evening wore on. It felt like there was a camera pointed at them more often than not; and certainly up close and personal as the nominees for their categories were announced.

Daisy Jones & The Six lost out for Best Original Music, and Timothée Chalamet's fans had him pipping her to the post for the Rising Star Award. Harry couldn't help but lean over and drop a conciliatory kiss to her temple. "You were robbed, baby". It wasn't the first time he'd been caught mouthing something slightly inappropriate in someone's ear by a television camera; likely not the last, either.

Disappointingly, Dunkirk missed out on Best Film and Best Director again, but did well in the more technical categories.

Both the BAFTAs and the upcoming Oscars felt a little like snubs after their initial, unexpected triumphs at the Golden Globes.

They, and the chatter accompanying them, also served to heap more pressure on Eloise's choice of next movie role. Inundated with scripts from new contacts and admirers, and with invites aplenty from casting directors, it felt overwhelming and disproportionately critical. Busy enough working on the script for the second season of Killing Eve, she resolved to focus on that and take her time. What's the rush, really?

>

Notoriously riotous, the BRIT Awards, just a few days later at London's O2, certainly proved more fun.

Outfitted in bodiced and frothy Dior as the trophy on his Calvin Klein clad arm, Eloise was relishing the lack of pressure.

Keeping a firm hold of her hand down the red carpet and throughout his interviews, the pair of them laughed good naturedly as friends photobombed and heckled them. Nick, Alexa, Rita and Ed, to name but a few. And, in town for a couple of weeks from LA, Rosie was there too, randomly.

Inside, they hung out with the likes of Mabel, Dua Lipa, Ellie Goulding and Little Mix, but couldn't help but gravitate to towards Niall and Liam, who was there with Cheryl.

Hosting, Jack Whitehall had a field day, roasting the three of them.

After lamenting the anti-climax of their not-so-secret relationship finally being made public, ribbing Harry for his fashion choices and then proceeding to pass off the full glass of wine he downed from their table as neat tequila, they could only breathe a sigh of relief when he upped the ante on Liam and Cheryl. No one needs to know their safe word, that's for sure.

Disappointed not to have been nominated for more, Harry did win Best British Video. He beat Liam, and Zayn and Taylor too, but there was some controversy, as the final result was tight between him and Little Mix, and their fans unfairly claimed it was rigged.

Heading back into Central London for the Sony afterparty at the Corinthia Hotel, and plied with too many killer cocktails, they then tipsily braved the paps to pile into a taxi to the even wilder unofficial after party at The Box nightclub.

>

After shaking off their not insubstantial hangovers, it was soon time to swap red carpets for guitars, amps and a stack of plane tickets.

But, before heading back out on tour in mid-March, Harry channeled Eloise and added another feather to his cap; modelling for Gucci.

Alessandro had been buttering him up for months, but it was the first time a gap in his tour schedule synced with their campaign marketing production timelines.

Fronting the Tailoring campaign, he rocked a plethora of wild suits, accessories and animal accomplices in a traditional fish and chip shop, in St. Albans, of all places.

He was a natural. In front of the camera, and with the chicken.

>

After their three month break, the band reconvened in London for a few days of rehearsals, including two incredible new unreleased tracks, Medicine and Anna.

Heading to Switzerland, they then didn't come up for air for a while.

Eloise was back to burning the candle at both ends. Travelling and tagging along to interviews and soundchecks by day, then concerts and socialising by night, she worked feverishly in between, pulling out her laptop at any opportune moment. She was under huge pressure to submit the completed final script of the second series of Killing Eve, then Netflix also roped her in to help round out some characters for Sex Education.

She certainly made good use of her uncanny ability to catnap.

Harry often found her pretzeled around her laptop, tucked into his bunk, or a sofa, or hunched over his dressing room table. So he employed a massage therapist to join them on tour; ostensibly for her troublesome neck and knotty shoulders, but the rest of the band and tour crew made the most of the new perk too.

>  
>

11th April 2018

One month later, after seventeen shows all over Europe, Harry has an epic homecoming, back in London.

For the first of two shows at The O2, he's keen for all his guests to have a very warm welcome.

Having submitted her final script earlier in the week, Eloise had been at a loss for something productive to do, so quickly volunteers to ferry guests from the backstage sign-in desk, through the warren of tunnels, to the large green room next to his dressing room.

The tour manager gives her a walkie talkie and everything; she's practically a roadie now. "Hmm, an upgrade from groupie?", she quips, beating Mitch to it. Peeved at missing the opportunity for one of his speciality pithy one-liners, he grumbles in complaint and rounds the band up for the venue meeting.

"Prettiest roadie ever then", Harry whispers between quick pecks, chuckling when she startles in fright as the walkie talkie crackles to life in her hand.

He laughs again when he clocks her raised eyebrow at her callsign; "Groupie-One".

"Fucking cheek!", she chuckles, shaking her head.

He shrugs, "Pretty lame gag...". Quickly jumping back, he dodges her swat before spinning on his heel to catch up with the others for the meeting. "Besides, you're more like Groupie-Twenty-One!", he cheekily calls over his shoulder from the doorway.

"Ooh, careful Styles! Or you won't find out what this Groupie's up for later...", she hollers back.

"Groupie-One? Do you copy?", the walkie talkie crackles again.

"Tosser-Two? I'm on my way, keep your bloody knickers on!". After a month on the road, she has the Roadie tour crew banter down pat.

>

Soon hitting her stride - literally, and grateful for her foresight to wear flat ankle boots today - Eloise returns again to the green room, this time successfully delivering Lucas, Ollie, her dad and godfather.

Heading straight in, their rowdy chatter and boisterous shoving pulls everyone's attention.

It's already fairly busy in there; she'd already shown in his mum, various aunts and uncles and cousins, and a number of their family friends.

But she's surprised to see Harry and the band already back from their meeting. They're mostly busy perusing the buffet spread, but it's Harry - unsurprisingly - that catches her eye.

He's in the corner, conferring quietly with Anne, head bent looking down at something. Hearing her dad's distinctive laugh, his head snaps up and he whirls away from his mum, quickly whipping an arm behind his back, looking to her wide-eyed. Hmm, not suspicious at all?

But she's distracted from any sleuthing when the walkie talkie crackles again. Fucking hell.

With a stern warning to her brothers to behave, she strides off again.

>

Returning, with Gemma and Michal this time, Eloise enters the green room again and is even more surprised to find Harry locked in an intense back-slapping hug with her dad. Again, they both jump apart when they notice her.

Eyeballing them both suspiciously, something's definitely up. She resolves to keep a close eye on Harry; his surprise game has been getting better and better - she must have rubbed off on him.

But, promptly summoned again, she chuckles, "Oh, God, Grimmy incoming... Brace yourselves!".

>

Soon rounding the long corridor again, she melts to see Harry crouched down and hugging a young fan. She must only be about five or six, and wears a 'Rays of Sunshine' t-shirt. Her mum and a woman from the charity hover close by.

Pointing Nick to the green room, she hangs back to watch, smiling moonily as Harry interacts with the little girl.

But she clocks her and gasps, leaning close to whisper in his ear, wide-eyed gaze still locked on Eloise.

He grins and twists with a full, dimpled smile. Beckoning her over with a curl of his finger, he turns back and nods to the girl as he keeps chatting lowly.

Stepping closer, Eloise tugs at her tight skinny jeans for some give before dropping a hand to his shoulder to drop down on to her haunches next to him.

The girls whispers back and he beams and giggles cutely, casting his eyes over Eloise alongside him. "Yes, she does look a bit like a Disney Princess, doesn't she? This is Eloise, and she's my princess. El, this little ray of sunshine is Poppy".

She's grateful for the hand he'd dropped to her hip, when the little girl barrels into her arms and clings on to her neck in a tight hug.

"Which one's your favourite?", Eloise asks, and listens intently to the high pitched whisper in her ear.

"No way!", she gasps, pulling back. "Mine too! Hey, though, do you think Harry looks more like Prince Eric or Tarzan? I can never decide... Do you remember his long hair?". Still chatting, she turns to look at him, smiling appraisingly as she casts her eyes over his handsome features before quirking her lip as he raises an eyebrow playfully.

Apologetically, and only after another hug, some photos and an autograph, Harry is dragged away for soundcheck. Standing back up, he lifts Poppy up to sit on a crate in the hallway, saving Eloise's legs as he leaves her chatting sweetly with her and her mum.

Passing the green room on his way to soundcheck, Harry pauses alongside Crispin, who's loitering in the doorway and looking down the hallway. Her dad pulls his gaze from Eloise to nudge Harry and give him a knowing look before shooing him off.

>

It's her favourite tour outfit to date; the cropped pink velvet jacket with the gold sequins and embellishment, with the matching black trousers with a gold sequin stripe, and a white silk shirt.

Gaping up at him from the VIP pen at the front row, she can't help but notice his bum looks even better than she remembered from that fitting in Italy.

He's putting on a hell of a show. Oozing charm, he struts, prowls and dances around the stage with flair and reckless abandon. Magnetic and vivacious, she can't take her eyes off him, and assumes fifteen thousand other people would readily agree.

Having opened with Only Angel and Woman, he raises the tempo again after Ever Since New York and Two Ghosts, with Carolina and then, finally, Medicine.

God, Eloise adores it. That snarling guitar riff makes her weak in the knees, and seeing him grow in confidence with each performance has been a sight to behold. It's a firm favourite and highlight every night.

During The Chain, her dad and godfather sling their arms around her shoulders, jostling her in excited disbelief.

"He's just incredible!", Crispin shouts as he grins up at Harry. "I saw Fleetwood Mac do this live back in the day and enjoyed it less".

Her godfather agrees. "I daresay he'd give Mick Jagger a run for his money too... I should have known you'd end up marrying a bloody rockstar one day!".

She turns to gape at him, "Whoa! Wait, hold up...", but her attention is soon diverted when she spots Lucas in the front corner of the pen, looking worryingly like he's trying to encourage a stage dive. As she shrugs them off, she catches her dad slap her godfather around the back of his head out the corner of her eye. What the-?

Stepping back with a chastised Lucas in tow, mindful to keep a closer eye on him, she intends to grill them, but her brother stuns her silent. Looking up at Harry, he gapes, "Fuck, how can one guy get so much swag? Don't tell me he's great in bed too?", he barks a laugh, elbowing her roughly.

Fucking hell, she can't cope with any of them. She readily lets her stumble at his shove carry her away, towards Anne and Harry's cousins.

>

After smashing Kiwi and dancing around like a loon, totally into it, Harry does a final whale, perfectly in time with the band and the lighting crew. Then, after a final bow, he's done and the spotlights come down.

They all scamper hurriedly through the VIP pen railings and are ushered by stewards to skirt the front of stage for a quick getaway.

Emerging backstage, Eloise taps in the code and slips into his private dressing room, just as he steps out the shower. With his towel slung low, he tugs her straight into his arms for a kiss.

"Baby, you were on fire! That was incredible!", she beams up at him. "Oh, I'm so going to miss seeing that every night", she pouts.

"I'm going to miss seeing you shaking this cute little bum...", he gives it a squeeze, "In the front row every night. I've so loved having you on the road for the last month, baby. I know it's been tough with your deadlines, but thank you so much, it's meant the world to me".

She tugs him down again for another kiss, overcome at the thought of not being with him all the time.

It's lights down on her touring, for now, too. She needs to get back to work and stay in London for pre-production on Killing Eve again, ready to then start filming season two in a few weeks.

But what a trip it's been! She's had so much time with him, seen so many amazing cities and venues across Europe, and loved being a part of their amazing and fun on-the-road family.

It's been an honour, to watch him do what he loves, night after night, spreading love and light and kindness wherever he goes. There's a plot twist for her - he's the bloody rainbow!

>  
>

14th July 2018

While Eloise continued clocking miles across the UK and Europe, filming, Harry raked in far more air miles, tackling the Australian, Asian and Latin American legs of the tour.

She'd seen him back in London for a week, between Japan and Argentina, but that was a month ago. And evidently a month too long, having been in each other's pockets twenty-four-seven for the previous one.

Flying into Boston the night before her twenty fifth birthday, she surprised him after sneaking up to his suite at the Four Seasons hotel just before 10pm.

A lazy morning in bed, followed by a decadent brunch, and then an afternoon catching up with the tour crew, made for a perfect birthday.

Their reunion certainly put a spring in his step too.

Bedecked in Harris Reed's finest - sinfully snug, black silk trousers with a velvet stripe down the side, paired with a black, ruffled, pussy-bow silk blouse.

Gaping up at him from the front row, she could only describe his look as sex on legs; fittingly enough. And he sounded like it too; positively purring and hitting every note and belt.

Medicine had her squirming. When his eyes weren't shut in either concentration or ecstasy, his passionate gaze was locked firmly on her.

She couldn't bear to wait out Kiwi, so headed backstage early, pacing his dressing room until she could pounce on him and flick the lock. A happy birthday, indeed.

>

The next day, he'd practically sailed down the I95 to New York City, floating on cloud nine.

Not least when she'd told him they'd reworked the shooting schedule, and she was now free to join him back on tour for the next month, seeing out the last of the final leg, right across North America.

He certainly swanned back into Madison Square Garden with his ego fluffed and confidence sky high.

His rapturous fans had almost blown the roof off. It was a triumphant return; both nights.

>

But, now, 'Welcome to the final show'; indeed.

Harry arrives early with Eloise, and, rather than heading straight to his dressing room, makes a point of venturing round to the foyer, just inside the doors to The Forum.

Walking in his fans' footsteps - 17,000 last night, with another 17,000 due tonight - for the last time, he tries to get a feel for the whole spectacle; before the merchandise stand is packed up one last time, the 'Treat People with Kindness' floor vinyls are peeled off, and all the visuals and signage are taken down.

He's performed for over 800,000 people across eighty eight shows in the span of the last ten months.

It's been a wild ride. He's not even close to being able to comprehend the enormity of his achievement.

First, he just needs to finish it; then he can try to start unpacking some of it.

But, what he does know, is that he loves performing, loves his fans, loves his crew, loves his crazy job. And he loves it all the more when he has his girl at his side.

He's never felt more content or more sure of himself. And not least when he catches her eye, mid-song, and sees that look on her face. Elated and proud and happy and definitely moony.

>

Eloise has been off collection duty this afternoon. Her only role is that of dutiful, proud, supportive girlfriend.

As the green room starts filling, now less than couple of hours before curtain up, she can't help but grin, mid-conversation with Glenne and Sarah.

Just hearing her dad's booming laugh, James' sea lion cackle and Harry's guffaw from across the room is enough. She can picture them all perfectly, heads thrown back laughing with glee. A quick glance over her shoulder only confirms it, and reveals her three brothers alongside them too, sniggering more quietly. She's not sure she can envisage a more troublesome little gang. She can only be thankful Grimmy's not here tonight.

The atmosphere in the room is buzzing; positive, eager, proud.

Anne, Gemma and Michal; Des and his partner are here too. Eloise's parents and brothers, now enjoying their off-season, are all in LA for a holiday. Ben and Mer, obviously. James and Jules. Jeff and Glenne; and his parents and siblings too. The band's partners and parents. Tom and Jenny. Molly and her partner. Teams from Harry's label, management and publicists. Rosie and Jason are here too. Xander and Waseem. And some other familiar faces as well - Kendall; Rande and Cindy and their kids; Shawn Mendes; Meghan Trainor; Tracee Ellis Ross; Minka Kelly.

There's none of the bittersweet vibe from the final show of his last tour. If Harry has proved anything, it's that this is very much just the beginning for him.

Toasts are made, jovial heckles abound, and glasses clink in ongoing cheers.

>

Then, with that tell-tale run of fingertips down the inside of her wrist and sliding into her palm, Harry steps close and drops a quick kiss to Eloise's temple before whispering, "Come with me?".

How could she possibly refuse? Squeezing his hand, she makes her apologies to Sarah and to Mitch's parents, and lets him pull her away.

Shaking their heads and flushing at the immature cat-calling and whistling as they slip through the side door to his private dressing room, they can only laugh as Harry Lambert throws a comical grimace over their shoulders as he ushers them through.

>

Safely cocooned, he politely busies himself buffing the gleaming boots again as Harry pulls Eloise into his arms for a proper good luck kiss.

Then, enjoying the peace, she perches by the mirror and watches, ever fascinated, as he gets his head in the game; increasingly focused with each layer of his sparkling armour.

It's the black and gold version of the outfit she loved so much from the first London show; a cropped black jacket adorned with gold sequins, nicely framing his peachy bum in snug black trousers with a gold sequin strip down the side, offset with a simple white silk shirt.

As he's given a final once over by his team, she catches his eye and they can't help but trade beaming smiles, with more than enough said in silent conversation between their locked sparkling gazes.

"Ready?", she grins at last, once they all step back and he's had a moment to blow out a deep breath and centre himself. "There's 17,000 people out there, ready to lap up whatever you've got left in the tank".

He smirks and steps closer, reaching for her hand and tugging her into his chest. As he dips his trailing fingers just under the mid-thigh hem of her black leather skirt, he whispers lowly. "Oh, I'm gunning for it, trust me... Better brace yourself for later", he trills in promise.

There's a pretty flush to her checks as he tugs the door open and steps out, with his other arm slung over her shoulder. There are cheers aplenty at seeing them re-emerge, and him in rockstar mode.

"Oi, oi... They look guilty! Something to celebrate?", Lucas crows, egged on by James alongside him. Wow, those two are trouble together.

"Stop, God... That's so inappropriate!", Eloise scolds him quietly, blushing that much harder as she casts her eyes around the room, crammed with family members and Harry's professional contacts alike.

Soon, all but Harry's closest circle are ushered to their seats, making room for a big huddle.

Then, with a final kiss and a cheeky promise he'll be coming in colours later, Eloise leaves Harry and the band to it and dashes to the VIP pen, desperate to not miss out on a moment of his final show.

>

He's electric on stage. Fizzing with energy and sounding incredible, he fills every inch of the vast venue, and commands the full attention of every single person packed inside.

After his penultimate song, The Chain, he returns to his mic after a quick breather. With another heartfelt thank you to the crowd, and a promise to return with some new music for them as soon as he can, he then seems to hesitate, possibly getting a little choked with the emotion of it all.

As he heads back towards Sarah's drum kit for another swig of water, Eloise keeps a close eye on him. And not just on his bum in those trousers.

She catches his shoulders raise and finally settle after a couple of steadying deep breaths, then sees him twist back again for an extra sip of water, before shaking out his wildly tousled hair.

Spinning, he heads back to his mic with an intent look on his face.

"You've been incredible, Los Angeles, I love you... We've only got one song left". He's interrupted by a roar of anticipation from the crowd, practically rabid with excitement for Kiwi. "But, umm, before we jump into that, I have a very important question...". With his eyes scanning near the front of the stage, Eloise can't help but wonder what he's up to. "Can we get the lights up for a moment please?", he asks his lighting director, "I need to see these beautiful faces".

When Anne grabs her hand, Rosie slings an arm around her waist, and Ollie squeezes a meaty hand to the nape of her neck, she feels butterflies explode in her stomach. What's going on? He wouldn't say anything pointed, surely? Not Mr. Privacy? Mr. Never-Complain-Never-Explain?

As he smoothly coos, "Ahh, there you are! Hello", there's another roar. Whilst 17,000 girls around the arena might think it's for them, with his cheeky smirk and eyes locked firmly on hers, Eloise knows it's all for her. Shit; she can feel adrenaline pumping into her system. What's he playing at?

After a beat, and a quizzical quirk of his brow, then a twist of a frown, and a subtle shake of his head to Mitch, Harry clears his throat, finally breaking their eye contact to continue addressesing the crowd.

"Oh, right, my question... So, you've been dancing and singing, sure. It's been great... But, for the next few minutes, I need every single one of you to absolutely lose your minds with me. Can you do that for me?".

The screams and stomping feet have the venue literally buzzing. "Okay, then... Show me what you've got!", he chuckles.

As the lights drop and he counts straight into Kiwi, Eloise is immediately distracted. Throwing the last of her drink back, down in one, she shakes out her arms and starts jumping, dancing and singing at the top of her lungs.

She doesn't stop.

And, as it happens, neither does he.

Not once. Not twice. Kiwi, three times on the trot. Wow.

"Well, there's no doubting his stamina is there? Fucking hell!", Rosie chuckles crudely, making Eloise's brothers laugh.

He gives it his absolute all. Returning from a dash through the crowd to the B-stage and back, he can barely get the words out on the third go around as he gasps for breath. Dropping heavily to his knees, as if in defeat, right in front of them at centre stage, he then proceeds to thrust and flail around like a maniac. He's having the time of his life.

Both the spectacle, and the expression of sheer joy on his face, are quite something to behold.

As he pulls the band together for a final bow, he applauds and blows kisses and waves to each section of the crowd in turn, then, with a final parting look over his shoulder, heads off stage for a final time.

But, as soon as he'd sung his last note, understandably slightly wobbly, Eloise had snuck under the barrier and signalled to a steward.

Waiting for him at the bottom of the steps from the back corner of the stage, she encounters the band first.

After quick sweaty hugs to the other three, it's over Mitch's shoulder that she finally spots him. Disengaging from his tight hug, she steps closer and opens her arms wide for Harry.

Still heaving and wheezing for breath after three Kiwi's, he skips into a jog as soon as he sees her, then swoops her into his arms and twirls her in a circle.

"You did it! You're bloody amazing... I'm so proud of you, H!", she babbles, totally overcome.

He takes her by surprise when his peal of laughter dissolves into a throaty sob.

He loses it, totally spent; overwhelmed at the accomplishment, and overcome with the depth of his feelings for her. He's sung his heart out, for her, about her, for eighty eight shows now, and can only dare to hope that the 800,000 fans he has performed for each gets to experience a love even a fraction as all-consuming and powerful as his for this willowy blonde bundle in his arms.

He's blissfully happy, content and fulfilled. What more could he ask for?

Not quite able to put it into words, he pours it into a heated kiss instead.

Perking back up after her steadying hold grounds him again - well, tethers him, at least; his feet won't touch the ground for a while yet - they head backstage, hand in hand.

>

Is it still a pep talk if it happens after the event? Whatever, it works; and he's full of beans and amped again by the time he's showered and changed, bursting back on to the stage, to another round of rapturous applause.

His nearest and dearest, plus the whole tour crew, are gathered on The Forum's stage for the afterparty. With a giant glitter ball lowered from the rafters, the sound system pumping and drinks flowing, they're all more than ready to let their hair down.

Her parents look on in disbelief. "Jesus, what is he on?", her Dad asks Eloise as he slings an arm around her waist, envious of Harry's palpable energy.

"Just adrenaline!", she shrugs. "That's just how much he loves it", she beams proudly.

But hers is already lagging. She eyes the drinks table eagerly, knowing she'll need a little help if she's to try to keep up with him.

>  
>

15th July 2018

When they round the corner into the kitchen late the next morning, Ollie jumps out from behind the fridge, pointing a bottle of champagne right at them.

Eloise leaps in fright, out from under Harry's arm, jumping in front of him with her hands outstretched defensively. "Argh, stop! What the fuck is wrong with you?", she hisses, dropping a hand over her racing heart. "It is too early and I am too hungover for your nonsense", she scowls at Lucas too, for good measure.

"Just chill, would you?", Harry says to them, pointedly, before chuckling awkwardly.

They're soon distracted as Lucas bursts, unable to contain his gossip that he thinks someone may have hooked up with Kendall.

Despite Ollie's howling protest, Harry raises an eyebrow and quirks his lips, as Eloise frowns in distaste.

"Well, that would be a bit weird...", she gestures between Harry, herself and her twin. "That's a few less degrees of separation than I think I'm comfortable with", she frowns.

"Wouldn't be the first time!", Lucas snorts; then clarifying at their confused faces, "Milly and James?".

"I never bloody slept with him!", Eloise whines. "And that would be indirect and entirely different anyway, you moron!", she huffs.

>

With desperately needed coffees brewed, Harry perches next to Ben and Mer on one balcony sofa, opposite Ollie and Lucas, with Anne on the arm chair at the end.

Gemma and Michal are still asleep downstairs, and Crispin and Elin are off somewhere catching up with friends for brunch.

Eloise steps gingerly up behind Mer to shimmy down behind them. Lying on her side, flush against the back cushions of the sofa, she plants her head in Harry's lap, facing his torso.

Groaning softly when he starts soothingly raking his fingers over her scalp, Lucas sniggers again. "Now who's being inappropriate?", he crows, nodding to little Ruby, babbling nonsensically in Mer's lap.

Eloise lazily flips him off over her shoulder then promptly falls asleep, so their frantically mouthed conversation goes over her head, quite literally.

Series continues with '11 | You're it".


End file.
